A Criminal Discourse
by inkkit
Summary: Evelyn is a renowned criminologist. When she is asked to oversee Loki's rehabilitation for a six month stint, she hesitantly accepts. Unlikely bonds form between these two distinct personalities. Meanwhile, intrigue and danger loom across the realms as a wicked agent deals a destructive hand. It will take a fierce alliance to prevent the rise of a new evil. Loki/OC. Post-Avengers.
1. Consulting Criminologist

1: Consulting Criminologist

Another unrelenting shock of electricity exploded from the electrodes connected to the pale, bared skin of his chest. The agonizing reverberations coursed through the entirety of his body, leaving him senseless from blinding pain. He gritted his white teeth, suppressing the howl of agony that was threatening to erupt from the deepest, most guttural part of his abdomen. He refused to allow his gaolers to derive any sadistic amusement or satisfaction from his excruciating torture. Sadistic pleasure was his speciality and he was not about to let a brainless pawn of the Asgardian penitentiary prison enjoy his suffering. He would bear the pain just as he had for the past four months—silently and with dignity. He was not a piteously frail human. He was a god.

OOOOO

It had been four months since the Avengers Initiative had successfully prevented world domination at the self-serving and heartless hands of Loki, the Asgardian god of mischief and lies. His rampage across the continent and the Chitauri alien attack had left quite a mess on the hands of international governments, especially that of the states. Evelyn McPherson, as a result, had been buried neck-deep in paper work. Every spare agent had been called upon to help cover up the otherworldly attack. The rebuilding efforts were still in full swing as teams of workers went about repairing the distressing damage that Loki's brief stint on Earth had instigated.

Evelyn huffed, annoyed, as she continued with her tiring paperwork. Tucking several stray strands of hair back into her messy bun, she pushed her largely oversized round glasses back to the top of her nose. The current file that she was leaning over was an account of one civilian's debriefing. The detail of the man's retelling of events was markedly detailed and eloquent. From his words alone, Evie was able to deduce that he had graduated from higher education, likely with a PhD, and was employed in a detail-oriented service. Similarly, she could detect an arrogance to him; his own self-praise evident to her in the subtext of his account.

Shoving the paper aside, Evie slumped back into her swivel chair. She was bursting at the seams. At the ripe age of twenty-three, Evie was one of the most accomplished criminologists in America. She'd always been an advanced learner and had graduated high school at the age of sixteen. By the age of twenty she'd completed a Masters in Criminology. No one had thought the feat possible, but Evie's most powerful tool had always been her receptive mind.

She excelled at reading peoples' emotions, at connecting with troubled individuals and helping them realize their errs. In two years she had helped the Federal Bureau of Investigation apprehend four serial killers who had been evading capture for the past decade. She had overseen the rehabilitation of some of the most notorious murderers. Her track record, to say the least, was impressive, and two months before the official launch of the Avengers Initiative, S.H.I.E.L.D. had hired her as their consulting criminologist.

Part of her job had been profiling incarcerated criminals, potential criminals, analyzing trends in criminal activity that could prove threatening to national security. She did it all; she was a machine. But as of late—notably the past four months—her normally well-oiled joints had grown rusty. She had been reduced to turning civilian debriefing transcripts into substance for psychoanalysis. Evie's mind was metaphorically rotting from disuse.

"Look alive, McPherson. Fury wants to see you in his office."

The familiar voice of Agent Romanoff awoke Evelyn from her thoughts. She quickly pushed the stubborn glasses back up her nose, looking at the agent through the endearingly large frames with wide eyes.

"What does he want from me? More mind-numbing file reviewing? No, thank-you very much, I think I'll pass," Evie grumbled, sinking deeper into her seat.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Get up, Evie. This is serious. Fury has a proposal for you."

Evie perked up and quickly rose, a bit too quickly, as she ended up stumbling forward and smacking her kneecap against the wooden leg of her desk. She winced, cursing her clumsiness. "What kind of proposal?"

Natasha shrugged. "Not my business or concern. Now move it. You know how agitated Patch gets when he's kept waiting."

Evie tried not to snicker at Fury's nickname. The Avengers had taken an affinity to calling him Patch when he wasn't present. Agent Romanoff, who Evie had always found to be the most perceptive of the Avengers, noticed her subtle smirk and returned the teasing smile. Evie eagerly followed the fit agent to Fury's office. Despite Agent Romanoff's reputation for being unapproachable and intimidating, Evie found her rather kind, well, kind to her. Evie knew the tough face she put on was an act, just a front to get people to respect her.

The pair reached the glass doors of his office. Inside, Nick Fury sat at his desk, his attention divided between a computer screen and several substantially sized folders scattered across his desk.

"Good luck," Natasha warned with a wink. The agent strode off and Evie knocked twice on the glass doors. Fury didn't look up but motioned with two fingers for her to enter.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Have a seat, Miss McPherson." Evie did as bidden and squirmed nervously in her seat during the brief silence that followed. Fury clicked a few more buttons on the keypad and transcribed a few digits onto a grid of similarly sized numbers before finally placing his elaborate fountain pen on the tabletop and lifting his head to meet her chocolate brown eyes with his single, disconcertingly scrutinizing black eye. "It has come to my attention that your talents, which, as you know, I hold in the highest regard, have been going to waste. I think it's high time you hand your filing efforts over to another agent and take on a project more up your alley. Don't you agree?"

Evie nodded fervently. "Yes, sir. Yes, absolutely," she breathed excitedly. "You have no idea how antsy I've been lately."

Nick Fury nodded with understanding. "I'm glad we're on the same page. Now, I've recently spoken with Thor and he reported on the situation in Asgard and how they've been handling the prisoner."

A cautionary voice sounded in her mind and Evie thought back to the times she'd spoken with Thor. Not being directly involved in the active mission, Evie had mostly just seen the Avengers from a distance. She'd been pre-occupied by her own position as team leader of Loki's criminal profiling. He was a fascinating god with a knack for mischief. He was unpredictable which made assembling a cohesive profile and trying to keep ahead of his movements one of the severest challenges she had ever faced. Loki was an enigma. He was the only criminal the Evie had ever profiled that she had been frightened of—and she hadn't even met him face to face, she'd met murderers before and they didn't hold a torch to Loki. It may have been the fact that he was a supernatural being with a reservoir of tricks and tactics that Evie could never even dream of ascertaining. Whatever it was, Evie would be content to never have to meet him. Ever.

On the topic of Thor, however, Evie found him to be extremely loyal to his brother. He demonstrated a firm belief in familial value. He'd defended Loki even in the god's lowest of times. For such a large and built god, he had a sympathetic heart and compassionate soul. He loved Earth; that much was clear.

"And how is Asgard handling their prisoner?" Evie asked conversationally. She could sense that Fury had wanted her to ask that very question.

"He has been subject to torture for the past four months," Fury said in an unaffected tone.

An audible gasp of horror escaped Evie's lips. "Torture? That's inhumane!"

Fury gave her a curious look. "Need I remind you, Miss McPherson, that Loki is a murderer, a plotter, and a deviant. You should have no sympathy for him."

Evie lowered her gaze. The reason she was the best at her job was _because_ she sympathized with criminals. She opened herself up to them so that they in return would open up to her. She'd witness their callous hearts and feel their frustration and the pain of their loved ones and she'd use all of those powerfully internalized emotions to lead the criminals to a catharsis. Torture was unacceptable in her books. How is a reformer any more human than a criminal when they resort to such dehumanizing practices?

"You said this has been going on for four months?" she tried not to snap at Fury as her frustration mounted.

"Yes. The Asgardian Courts sentenced him to one year of imprisonment and confiscation of his magic. For the first six months he is be left in absolute isolation, sans human contact. He is punished through the triggering of debilitating electric shocks ordered by the Courts to be delivered thrice every hour, to be done regularly and without mercy," Fury explained, his black eye carefully trained on her distressed expression.

Evelyn shook her head, disgusted. "How is torturing him endlessly for months supposed to help rehabilitate him?"

"He's a god Evie. Don't forget. Electrocution won't kill him. In any case, Thor came to me and informed me that criminal reforming in Asgard lacks, how should I say, a certain level of sensitivity that comes with the rehabilitation of prisoners on Earth. In two months, Loki will be relegated to a holding cell where he will remain for the rest of his year's sentence. This is where I come to you, Miss McPherson."

Evie's heart thudded loudly in her chest in a strange combination of excitement and trepidation. "Thor has asked for a human to oversee Loki's reintegration."

Evie stood abruptly, the feet of her chair screeching offensively across the linoleum floor. She must have been quite the sight because Fury rose as well, his nonchalant expression replaced with one of uncertainty. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse."

Fury looked down at her, disappointed. "You haven't let me finish."

"I don't need you to finish. I know what you're going to ask me and I outright refuse. I will not rehabilitate Loki. I won't," she said firmly, jaw set, eyes fierce.

A frown crossed Fury's face. "It would be six months in Asgard. You would be well-looked after there. Thor has already arranged for your own quarters. Essentially, you would act as liaison between Asgard and S.H.I.E.L.D., keeping us updated on your progress with the prisoner as well as with any developments that might unravel. Your obligations would include visiting him once a day for a two hour period with one day a week for yourself. Once a week you'll be expected to report to us via an advanced circum-realm transmitter that we have several technicians working on as we speak."

Evelyn shook her head. Loki was dangerous. His powers and knowledge were hundreds of years in the making. She would be at a disadvantage to him, and she couldn't have that.

"Consider this, Evelyn. If you successfully reintegrate one of the most hostile criminals known to all nine realms, well, it will make your career. Do you really want to let slide the opportunity to attempt your hardest case yet? Think of how fulfilling it would prove to be should you succeed."

"I—I don't know," Evelyn stuttered uncertainly. She couldn't deny that the whole idea was enticing—travelling through realms and rehabilitating a god. It was all too fantastical to comprehend. And what would she return to should she refuse but heaps upon heaps of paperwork, the same old mind-numbing work that she'd been working on for four months now. Maybe it was time to take a leap of faith. Maybe this was her chance to break through the mould. Maybe this was her moment to shine.

With trembling fingers, Evie plucked her glasses off her face and placed them haphazardly atop her head. Her left hand ran over her face as she considered all of the possibilities. She bit her lip knowing full well that she was going to regret her decision.

"Fine."

Fury raised a pleased brow, allowing a rare smile to appear on his face.

"I'll do it."

OOOOO

The next two months went by with excruciating deliberateness. The first phase of his punishment—that of his court-authorized physical purgation—had finally ended. After six months of saving face, of grinning and bearing it, Loki had finally allowed his screaming body to collapse into blackness. He was both physically and mentally exhausted, but he would not accept defeat. When he awoke some hours later, he found himself tossed carelessly on a plush four poster bed. The sensation of something soft that offered comfort was foreign to him following six months of torture. Limbs aching with the remembrance and lingering of his painful experience, he lightly caressed the emerald comforter of his new bed, allowing his fingers to take in the silky texture and smooth threading. It was all so ridiculously lavish that he couldn't help but chuckle hoarsely with contempt.

It took several seconds for Loki to sit upright on the bed. The room was comfortable enough. Aside from the laughably extravagant bed, the rest of the furnishings were more appropriately Spartan. There was a desk, a simple stone hearth, and two winged armchairs. His educated guess would be that his mother, Frigga, had managed to convince the courts to grant him a comfortable bed for sleep. It wasn't likely that anyone aside from the Queen of Asgard could convince the courts to agree to such an excessive addition to his cell. A thin-lipped smirk spread across his face. Six months of isolation had awakened him to the reality that there were some people in his life that he cared enough for to miss; his mother, for one, and much to his own chagrin, his brother too—although he'd never admit to it. The rest he could happily do without.

So lost was he in his thoughts that he did not hear the approaching footfalls of his brother. Only when the sound of his door unbolting echoed beyond his room did he lift his head in acknowledgement. The grossly massive bulk of Thor's body filled the doorway before he stepped into the cell, door shutting locked behind him.

"Brother." Thor's deep voice was the first that he'd heard in six months. His throat tightened uncomfortably. "It has been too long. How are you feeling? You must know that mother and I tried to lighten your sentence. Neither of us wanted you to be put through that kind of pain. The courts were harsh with their conviction," Thor said in a single breath, his clear blue eyes swirling with regret.

Loki scowled at his older brother's sentimentality. "Stop blubbering, Thor. It's very unbecoming. And I personally found their punishment uncharacteristically forgiving considering that twice I have sieged Midgard," Loki mused.

Thor brushed off his comment. "I have missed you, Loki." His deep voice was gruff with emotion as he scratched his chin seemingly embarrassed by the admission.

The scowl of disdain remained on Loki's pale, drawn face. "How touching. Now what do you want?"

Thor frowned disapprovingly. "I wanted to be your first visitor. I thought you'd appreciate some company." When Loki said nothing, Thor continued. "You should know that the court has revised your sentence. They have amended your punishment to include counselling sessions for the next six months as you are rehabilitated for social reintegration."

Loki's head shot up, his emerald green eyes narrowing with bitterness. "Counselling? I thought we had agreed on a further six months of incarceration?" Loki demanded, growing agitated.

Thor took a seat in the wingback chair by the hearth. "Your incarceration will be lengthened to an additional year following these next six months should you refuse the counselling, Loki." His blond features knitted in a frustrated frown. "You do not belong in a cell, Loki. You are not as bad as that. I advise you to accept the court's amendment. Do not grant them the pleasure of witnessing you wasting away in a cell," he pleaded.

Loki's eyes burned fiercely with quiet rage. "I would not lower myself to seek the counsel of some inconsequential fool. In any case, there is no such a person in Asgard qualified to offer such a service. Counselling is a fruitless practice that sentimental humans engage in."

Thor's gaze turned serious. "You are right, brother. There is no such person in Asgard…"

It took Loki a fraction of a second to realize what his brother was implying. He rose to his feet, not attempting to conceal the indignant fury that he was feeling. "Absolutely not!" he seethed, outrage colouring his tone. "To seek the counsel of some insignificant human would be the ultimate act of my character's depreciation. Do they not know who I am?" he growled, fists clenched at his sides.

Thor nodded. "Yes. They know exactly who you are, Loki, and that is why they have altered your sentence. They are challenging you, brother. Prove to them you are a better man."

"Of all the insults… and a human no less," Loki muttered, his voice infused with bitter derision.

"Loki, I will not see you rot in solitude for a whole year. I have it on good terms that the human Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. has selected is most qualified."

To be so debased by being analyzed and treated by a human subject made Loki's stomach churn sickeningly. Another year and a half in this hell hole would be far from agreeable. Six months was far more pleasing in terms of sentence length. But to be forced to consult with a human, to have to rely on their undependable word and questionable effectiveness of practice in order to regain his freedom—it was disgraceful. Somehow he knew that Odin had been involved in the modification. Odin had always been a proponent of instilling moral lessons. Forcing him to spend time with a human, the very specimen that he had sought to rule over, was just his way of digging the dagger ever deeper.

Thor could read the disgust and consequent reluctance on his brother's face. He was aware of Loki's distaste for humans, but agreeing to the new sentence was the right decision. "I know it wounds your pride, brother. But I am sure that it will not prove to be as terrible as you believe. If not for yourself, do it for mother. Not a day has passed that she has not wept for your absence, for the cruel injustice of your sentence. Do not deprive her of a most beloved son."

Loki cursed his brother's ability to reason with him. He wasn't supposed to be the one with the silver tongue. Bringing his mother into the affair was a conniving move. Only pleading the case of his mother could cause him to waver in his resolve. He had a suspicion that he would regret the decision.

"Fine."

Thor lifted a brow, a satisfied smile lighting his handsome face.

"I'll do it."

**Let me know what you guys think. I look forward to your thoughts :)**

**Ta,**

**Ink.**


	2. Foreign Territory

**Disclaimer: (I forgot to mention this, oops) all characters are the property of the Avengers franchise. But Evelyn is mine. Mwhahaha. And don't be hating on me when you realize that there's no Loki/Evelyn interaction in this chapter. These first two chapters are just setting up the scenario. The next chapter is the initial meeting between Loki and Evelyn. Thank you for being tolerant of my deliberateness. Things go down next chapter. Prepare yourself for some serious feels. Also, I won't be posting again until December 26-27. The holidays are really busy for my family so please bear with a week's wait! Okay, you can read on now (and review if it so agrees with you).**

2: Foreign Territory

Two months after that day in Fury's office, Evelyn McPherson found herself waiting, single shabby suitcase in hand at the landing platform that would receive Thor come his arrival on Earth. There were several people gathered about her, ready to see her off. If everything went according to plan, it would be another six months until she saw any of them again. The Avengers had all gathered to see her off, which was a kind gesture, she thought. Until recently she hadn't really spent that much time with the legendary group of Earth's finest heroes. It had really been thanks to Agent Romanoff (alias: Black Widow), that she had befriended them at all.

About a month ago, Natasha had invited her to Tony Stark's private birthday party. Typically, loud and crowded events were not Evelyn's particular cup of tea—she'd rather just curl up with a book or read over some of her criminal profiles—but she figured she could benefit from some socializing. She'd been formally introduced to the Avengers, who she discovered were actually fairly decent characters.

"Always remain vigilant," Steve said with sincerity. He placed a strong hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "You are a fierce woman, Miss McPherson. Make sure they know that and they shouldn't give you too much trouble."

"Thanks Steve," she said gently, pulling him into a quick, but reassuring hug. Her glasses slipped down her nose and she quickly readjusted them.

She had no idea what to expect in Asgard. She wasn't an expert of any kind in Norse mythology—their customs and cultures would be completely alien to her. How should she greet the gods she'd meet? Was she meant to curtsy like some Victorian maiden or bow or smile? Would she unknowingly offend them from her ignorant lack of knowledge? Would they send her straight back after realizing she was just a human woman? Were they a misogynistic patriarchy? Her heart thudded loudly in her chest with each new despairing thought.

"Enough with all the soppy schmaltz, you two. You made me throw up a little in my mouth," Tony's sarcastic voice interrupted their hug. With a roll of his eyes, Steve released the small woman from the protection of his arms.

"We'll miss you Freud," Tony said with a wink. "I'll never forget the way you created a profile of me from a single glance across the room. What did you write again? His posture suggests excess pride. Careless bed-head and forward tilt of his hips suggests an unconscious projection of sexual prowess." He flashed a winning smile at her. "I will cherish it always."

"And rest assured, I'll miss your obnoxious sense of humour," Evie said with a sly grin.

"I would expect no less," he reciprocated.

She bade goodbye to Dr. Banner and Hawkeye as well and then finally turned to Natasha who looked particularly severe today. "Why the long face?"

Agent Romanoff gave her a small, clearly forced smile. "Sorry, just thinking about how I'm going to cope when my sole source of daily sanity vaporizes to another realm."

"I'm sure you'll manage, Natasha," Evie said reassuringly.

The red-headed woman nodded distractedly. "Rogers is right you know. You need to be vigilant in Asgard. They're gods—they lack in basic human emotions of compassion and kindness. They're selfish and self-serving. Trust no one."

Evie frowned. "Thor seems decent enough."

Natasha rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Yeah, but that's Thor. He's built himself up on a hero complex just like these guys," she gestured with her head at the other Avengers. "He has a duty to watch over you and he'll honour it. Just remember, Asgard will be ripe with hostiles, and Loki isn't the only one with humans on his blacklist. You need to stick with Thor and when that's not possible you have to look after yourself."

Evie reached into a pocket of her bag and pulled out a small, handgun-sized tranquilizer gun, holding the unfamiliar object in her clumsy grip. "I'm armed," she grinned, waving it about.

"Be serious, Evie. A tranquilizer won't protect you from a god. Sure it'll grant you a head start, but that won't be enough."

It was rare to see Natasha so bothered and riled. Without really thinking about her actions, Evie grabbed Natasha's cool hand and clasped it reassuringly. "You've become a really good friend of mine, Natasha. I promise you that I'll be careful. I won't let some ego-driven gods terrorize me. And if I do feel threatened then I'll call it all off. I value my life more than being successful at this job."

Natasha seemed satisfied by this. There was nothing more to be said, so the small assembly of people waited for Thor's arrival. Conversation was light as no one really wanted to delve into the possible danger that Evie was getting herself into.

Only a few minutes more passed before a painfully shrill ringing sounded through the room. A blinding flash of all-encompassing light followed, stinging the eyes of the room's occupants, before the whiteness faded to reveal Thor himself kneeling on the landing platform.

He descended the three steps and stood before them in all his godly glory. He was unlike any man Evelyn had ever seen. He certainly surpassed six feet, his shoulders were broad, his trunk thick, limbs clearly muscled. But it was his massive arms that caused her to stare in awe. He hadn't seemed so magnificent when viewing him from a distance the few times she'd seen him or dimly heard him in conversation with others. But now, standing but five feet in front of her, he was breathtaking.

His kind blue eyes fell on her and she suddenly realized just how short her stature of 5'2 was. He closed the distance between them and extended his hand. Her mind was on an approximate five second delay and it took her just a moment to realize it was a gesture to shake hands. Only it wasn't, because when she placed her hand in his, he gallantly brought it to his lips and brushed a feather-light kiss on her skin. The blush that rose to her cheeks was pointless to stop.

"Someone's star-struck," Tony's teasing voice called from behind her. "But don't be embarrassed, sweetheart, Barton nearly wet himself when he first met Thor."

Thor released her hand and turned to Tony. "Ah, it is the Man of Iron, Tony Stark of Midgard. How have you been? And your woman, Lady Potts?"

Tony grinned, "The lady doth well, fairest giant from lands foreign."

Evelyn couldn't help but roll her eyes. She waited anxiously while Thor greeted his fellow comrades. Another half-hour and he was set to go. Together they climbed the steps of the platform. Natasha followed them but stopped at the bottom of the steps. She focused her gaze on Thor, straining her neck so as to stare directly into his eyes.

"Look after her," she said, her eyes holding traces of emotion.

Thor nodded. "I will."

"If she comes back with even a scratch I will personally castrate you, feed your genitals to Chitauri, and guarantee that all your hopes and dreams of procreating miniature god-lings are violently destroyed." Her voice had lost all hint of light-heartedness.

Thor noticeably recoiled at her grave tone. "You make your concern perfectly clear, Black Widow."

Suitcase in hand, Evie took one last look at the friendly faces surrounding her. Her grasp on the handle of her raggedy suitcase tightened as Thor wrapped a protective arm about her shoulders. "Hold on tight, Miss McPherson."

Stuffing her glasses into a secure pocket of her jeans for safe-keeping, she did as told, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. The sadness of leaving friends and family weighed heavily on her as she clung to Thor's thick trunk. Her thoughts were cut abruptly short as she was suddenly consumed by darkness. White lights were flashing brightly around her, streaking past like shooting stars on steroids. They flew past her vision as her body was sucked through what she could only describe as a vortex of sorts. Her heart was in her throat by the time her feet touched solid ground and had Thor not been holding her to his body, she would have surely landed flat on her face.

When the colourful room containing them had finally stopped spinning, Evie took her first official look at Asgard—which was actually quite exceptional. The room they were in was golden and at its centre was some kind of towering pointed barrel. It was fantastical, to say the least. The floor beneath her was glass and she could see far below her feet into a space of vast emptiness. At the centre of the dome-shaped room stood a tall, dark-skinned man donned in bronze armour with a helmet much like the one she had seen Thor wear atop his golden hair, only his was decorated with two curving, respective waning and waxing crescent moon-shaped appendages.

"Miss Evelyn McPherson, this is Heimdall, Keeper of the Bifrost," Thor said in his deep, rumbling tone. Evie timidly advanced towards the large man. "Heimdall, this is Miss Evelyn McPherson of Midgard. She will be Loki's companion throughout his rehabilitation."

The god, Heimdall, extended a large hand, which Evie took. She was once again rendered speechless as he graciously brought her hand to his lips to kiss, just as Thor had previously done. "It is an honour to meet such an accomplished human," he said kindly, his caramel eyes glowing brightly with warmth.

Evie, still in awe of the Bifrost even after Thor had patiently explained its function to her several times, eagerly followed the god out of the dome. She could feel her mind opening and becoming increasingly receptive to the possibilities that this wonderful realm had to offer, this kingdom where, as Thor had put it, science and magic were one and the same. The heavy, solid gold doors opened up onto a view unlike Evelyn McPherson had ever seen in her short life of twenty-three years. Beyond her stretched a rainbow bridge, its surface seemed to be made of millions upon millions of sections of variously coloured reflective tiles refracting light from their minute surfaces.

"This is…" Evie couldn't even find the word to describe it.

"I know," Thor said kindly. "It is the rainbow bridge. And look down there." Evelyn's eyes followed the parallel line he was creating with his index finger across the bridge. When her eyes met the point of interest, she beheld the most beautiful city she had ever seen—even more impressive than the fantastical palaces created using CGI digital technology. Asgard was the real deal. The city itself seemed to be made of gold and bronze, and it seemed to radiate a glow as the sun's rays reflected off its shimmering structures. Its architectural structures reached into the heavens, the central structure—clearly a palace—disappeared into lilac coloured clouds.

"Thor. I never imagined Asgard looking like this. It's magical, beyond even my wildest of dreams," Evie turned to Thor, an unsuppressed smile on her face. "I'm glad I came."

Thor nodded. "As am I."

Two horses were waiting for them, and Evelyn revelled in the minor Earthly familiarity. If there was one thing she knew, it was horses. She'd taken lessons when she was twenty after deciding that every girl deserved to have their dream of learning to ride a horse become a reality. Thor chivalrously offered his assistance, but Evelyn raised a hand of protest.

"It's okay. This is one thing I know how to do."

The sensation of riding down the rainbow bridge, the sweet-smelling air filling her lungs and whipping her wavy brown locks about her face was rejuvenating. If she could she would keep riding forever, basking in the exhilarating freedom of the ride. But after several minutes, the gates of Asgard rushed forward to greet them, and the serene moment of careless and untainted bliss was ended.

The pair travelled on foot through the magnificent city. Evelyn didn't even attempt to keep track of each turn they took. She was enraptured by the foreignness of it all. The gods were dressed luxuriously, in tunics and gowns, armour and dragon skins of every colour. Evelyn was becoming increasingly more self-conscious of her own jeans, plain grey sweater, and sneakers.

The castle was, if possible, even more extravagant than the rest of the city. The lavishness of it all was incredibly foreign to Evelyn, who had lived i apartment since she was twenty years old. An acute sense of being out of place, of not belonging, settled in her stomach and her nerves were agitated to new heights.

Thor lead her to her chambers, which were, wouldn't you know, ridiculously excessive. The room was furnished with custom white wood furniture, the bedspread was a soft lilac colour, as were the curtains. The walls were a pale grey and sparkling silver ornaments of whose purposes were unrecognizable to her decorated the various surfaces.

"I hope this will do, Miss McPherson," Thor said gently, glancing about her room.

Evelyn suppressed a sardonic comment and nodded instead. "It's almost too elegant. I don't think my role here is important enough to merit such extravagant quarters," she admitted.

"On the contrary, your role here is essential. You will bring my brother from the darkness that has encompassed his soul. You will help us repair the House of Odin and restore severed family ties," he said passionately. "Now, I will leave you to prepare for dinner. The Allfather has requested your presence. I will fetch you in three hours hence if it suits you."

Evie nodded and Thor let himself out. She stood uncertainly in the centre of the vast room.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?"

OOOOO

Loki knew the instant his human companion had arrived. The gossiping voices of Asgardians rushed to him over the winds, through his opened cell window. He could not hear their words, but he could sense the excitement of a new arrival. Much to his liking, he could also detect resentment and a distrusting suspicion for the newly arrived human presence. It pleased him to know that he was not the only one who disliked the idea of a human residing in Asgard.

There was a knock on his door before his cell guard unlocked it and entered with a tray of his dinner. "Your dinner, Loki." He placed the tray, consisting of a hearty stew, a small glass of fine wine and a loaf of bread, on the table beside the wingback chair.

Loki nodded in a gesture of thanks. Desperate for some conversation and perhaps a hint as to whom his human guardian would be, he said, "The city seems oddly chipper today. It wouldn't have anything to do with the human who has come to induce misery upon me?"

The guard, Haward*, gave him a reproachful look. "I do not think you require my confirmation, Loki. As you well know, your ears do not deceive you. The human has indeed arrived."

Loki's brow furrowed in annoyance. Haward was proving to be a resilient one. His patience with Loki was unparalleled. Despite all of Loki's antagonizing, snide, condescending words, he succeeded in maintaining a level head. Haward had earned respect from him. "I am bored, Haward. Indulge me? What does this human look like? Is he at least intellectually disposed? I dearly hope he's not a dull one."

Haward seemed surprised. "You have not heard?"

"Heard what?" Loki asked, finding the feeling of 'not knowing' to be a frustrating one. He despised being at a disadvantage to others. He was accustomed to knowing _everything._

"It is a source of controversy amongst many Asgardians. Some are pleased with this human, others are less so."

Loki glared at Haward. "What aren't you telling me?" he demanded.

Haward merely blinked at him. "In due time." Without so much as a word of farewell, Haward left Loki alone and seething in his quiet cell. He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into that human, to tear them apart, destroy their sense of soul, and reduce them to a simpering puddle of disgraceful mortal flesh and bone.

OOOOO

Evie stood nervously outside the gold doors of the Royal family's banquet hall. Thor stood at her side. She anxiously brushed the wrinkles out of the formal Asgardian gown she had been provided with. Apparently jeans and sneakers were not appropriate attire for dining with the Allfather and his queen. The dress itself was reminiscent of the flowing tunics worn by Greek goddesses, only hers was the colour of the night sky. The gown was cinched at the waist by a diamond-studded belt, and the material of the skirt fell delicately down the length of her legs. Her arms were bare and the paleness of her skin was accentuated against the dark fabric. Her hair had been pulled up into a bun, with several loose waves framing her face.

She felt too regal, as if she was dressing deceptively above her station. In a minor form of rebellion, she decided to forego wearing her contacts. It was her hope that the large, clumsy looking glasses she wore would lessen the almost too sensational experience of dressing so absurdly formally for a simple dinner.

"Are you all right, Miss McPherson?" Thor asked.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry. I just—I'm exceptionally nervous," she admitted. "And please call me Evelyn, or Evie, whichever you prefer."

Thor smiled broadly down at her. "You look like an Asgardian princess, Evelyn. There is nothing to fear. You are very kind to come to us and my parents will acknowledge this," he said reassuringly. Without further ado, he looped her arm in his. The doors swung open, and, holding her breath, Evie allowed Thor to lead her forward into the room.

Odin and Frigga were quite simply—imperial. The Allfather was dressed in sparkling silver armour, he had a billowing white beard and an eye patch covered one of his eyes. The other eye, however, was clearly filled with wisdom and scrutiny as it raked over her. Frigga was a beautiful goddess, with long, flowing auburn hair and bright eyes. Her kind smile was one that could only be described as motherly. She advanced towards Evelyn, her arms extended towards her. Evelyn, in turn, went completely still, heart pounding in her chest. She had no idea how to respond. Thankfully, Thor gave her a small shove in her lower back, propelling several feet forward towards his beaming mother.

Evie was shocked when the Queen of Asgard pulled her into her arms in a warm and welcoming embrace. It was a disconcertingly human gesture. Over Frigga's shoulder, she could see the frowning face of Odin. He didn't seem particularly receptive of her presence.

Frigga withdrew from Evelyn. "Miss McPherson, you are too kind to come here, to Asgard. You must be lonely being so far from your home."

Evelyn offered a small smile. "It's all a bit overwhelming, but I'm glad to be of service to your family." She turned to Thor before returning her gaze to Frigga. "Thor has been good to Earth. I feel it's only right to repay the favour in turn."

Odin had quietly approached them while she'd spoken. "Thor may have done good, but my son Loki has twice now overstepped boundaries. Surely you must resent him?" he asked, his voice deep with millennia old wisdom. Evie usually had a good grasp on peoples' emotions by the way they spoke, but Odin's were difficult to read. His expression bore no trace of emotion whatsoever.

"I do not condone his actions, sir. Earth is my home and he rained terror down upon it. I suppose it would be only natural for someone to resent him."

Odin nodded, his scrutinizing one eye never straying from her face. "I wonder if you are capable of approaching this task without bias. The future of my son's reintegration into Asgard rests on your shoulders, and it is my concern that you have no intention of recommending him for reintegration," Odin said levelly, his tone deceptively passive. Evelyn could detect the veiled threat behind his expression, one that she did not appreciate.

"Father," Thor protested, readily coming to her defense.

Evelyn shook her head and raised a hand to stop him. "It's fine, Thor." Evelyn levelled her gaze with Odin's. He was not as tall as his son which made it an easier task than when she'd done so with Thor.

"I can see that you care dearly for your son," she began. Odin seemed to bristle at the word care. "In any case, I respect that and fully understand your concern. But that is why S.H.I.E.L.D. chose to send _me_ as opposed to another. I have dealt with criminals who have performed deeds just as heinous as your son, perhaps not on such a large scale, but terrible crimes all the same. On Earth a criminal like Loki would never be reintegrated into society, but I realize that things are different here. I have saved murderers from the death penalty. I have made them penitent men and women. I have made them feel guilt again. I have stripped them raw and restored some of their lost humanity. If your son permits me, then I shall do the same with him. If you want him to come home, then I'm your best chance. I _will_ see Loki restored to his family."

A deafening silence followed her passionate words. No one spoke. Thor's gaze became distant with hope; tears brimmed in Frigga's eyes; and Odin's previously hard gaze had considerably softened. No one made a sound or movement. Finally, after what seemed to be minutes but was only several long seconds, Odin nodded his head in approval.

"We shall see in time, then. For now, shall we dine?"

Evelyn, hating all the attention that was being put on her, nodded enthusiastically. As she took her seat beside Thor at the long banquet table lined with foreign delicacies, she could only hope that she had gotten her point across to Odin and left him with a favourable impression of herself.

* * *

*Norse name meaning high defender


	3. Unveiled Threats

**I hope everyone had a merry Christmas or enjoyed whatever holiday celebrations respective to your culture/religion!**

**Note: The story will primarily be from Evelyn's perspective, which I find only adds to Loki's fascinating ambiguity. There'll be a few exceptions, of course. **

3: Unveiled Threats

Evelyn stood before the tall mirror that was propped against the wall just to the left of the elaborate changing screen in her bedroom. She had refused to wear an Asgardian gown, even if it was a casual frock meant for daywear. When the time came to face Loki at their initial meeting she had to be confident and comfortable in her skin, not pulling at the seams of a foreign dress.

Her long, straightened brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail that fell down the length of her neck and back, settling between her shoulder blades. She wore no makeup, preferring to appear natural. She was here to guide the mischievous god and help him understand the error of his heinous ways, not impress him with a pretty, dolled up face. She also packed her shoulder bag with a notebook, pen, tranquilizing handgun and switchblade.

Doubting that the god of mischief's cell would prove comfortable—if the cells they had in Asgard were anything like the cells back home on Earth—she had selected an older pair of dark, denim jeans that had, over excessive use, lost its stiffness, and a loose, hand-knitted grey sweater with a pair of plain black flats. Thor had informed her that the seasons of Asgard, changed concurrently with those of Midgard. It was the middle of January back on Earth, which equated to the middle of Asgard's cold season. Despite the lack of snow, the crisp air beyond held a biting chill, the kind that revealed misty puffs of breath when breathing. The primarily marble and granite floors and walls of the palace did very little in terms of offering warmth and the homey comfort of shag carpets and wooden flooring normally would.

Thor came for her several minutes later to escort her to Loki's cell. Try as she might, Evelyn could not successfully regulate the erratic pace of her heartbeats and protesting nerves. She mentally chided herself for being so anxious. It was impossible to count the number of times she had been alone with rehabilitating criminals, this time would be no different. _Except that Loki was a god. Except that Loki had attempted to rule Earth. Except that Loki was a sadistic, entitled, manipulative and murderous prince of an otherworldly realm._

"What bothers you, Miss Evelyn?" Thor's deep, kind voice filled the silence.

"Just Evelyn, please," she said quickly. "I'm trying to rationalize the situation that I'm about to willfully enter." He gave her a puzzled look. "You know, trying to convince myself that this is still a good idea," she replied sardonically.

Thor frowned disapprovingly. "Evelyn, you are most suited for this task. You are of strong mind, spirit, and resolve."

Evelyn just nodded, lapsing back into a sceptical silence. When they began to ascend a dim, spiral staircase, Evelyn paused. "You are taking me to his cell, right?"

Her question was met by a confused, but amused smirk. "Why yes, Evelyn. Where did you think I was taking you?"

"Well," she paused, but then continued, albeit hesitantly, to follow Thor up the seemingly endless heavenward winding staircase, "typically, cells equate dungeons. So I was thinking dark, dank, rat-infested slammers in the deepest cellar of the palace."

Thor's bellowing laugh echoed about them. "You are very comical, Evelyn. Your unconventional imagination does amuse me."

Evelyn gawked at the massive man. Did he know nothing of medieval history? Hadn't he ever read a fantasy novel? The villains were always kept in leaky dungeons below ground. Clearly Asgardians did things differently. Deciding to forego the barrage of innumerable questions that were bouncing around her mind, Evelyn kept quiet. They continued up the staircase for what seemed like an hour, but was really only a few minutes, until they finally reached the top. Evelyn's knees were starting to tremble beneath her, her breath coming out in laboured, uneven rasps.

"Do I have to do that every single time?" she panted.

Thor shot her another amused smile which annoyed Evelyn to no end. "I am afraid so."

"Subterranean dungeons would have been a lot more practical," she muttered under her breath, rearranging her glasses on her nose.

"I beg your pardon? What of dungeons?"

"Nothing," she mumbled. She made a mental note to get back into the habit of jogging. Her legs had gone soft from infrequent training. Taking a minute to steady her breathing, Evelyn took a brief look around her.

The staircase had opened up into a small chamber with two windows on either side. A guard stood just to their right and at the back wall a greying wood door inlaid with bronze brackets and bolts stood looking eerily foreboding. She knew exactly what lay behind it.

Thor introduced her to the dutiful keeper who spent his days overlooking and bringing meals to Loki. His name was Haward, a fiercely tall and muscled god with kind eyes, and according to Thor, he was one of the most loyal subjects of the Allfather and head of the Royal Guard. When he had training and tasks he was replaced by a younger guard, one less experienced but powerful all the same. Haward was level-headed and patient, the perfect match for an agitated and self-righteous god with a deluded saviour complex. Evelyn immediately added Haward to the mental list she had begun compiling of people in Asgard who she believed would be trustworthy allies in a conjectural hour of need.

The god of thunder was suddenly speaking again. "I will enter first. But I must warn you, my brother was only released yesterday morning from his six month punishment. I saw him not those six months, but I know the treatment that he endured was excruciating. His mood will doubtlessly be foul."

Evelyn nodded, rolling her shoulders to let loose the unwanted hindrance of tension that had developed in the sinews of her neck and shoulder muscles. "Understandable. Don't concern yourself too much, Thor," she said reassuringly, "I can handle him." The words were meant more to reassure herself of her ability to keep in control of any situation that might arise, but she kept that truth to herself.

The large man nodded slowly. For a fleeting second, Evelyn saw the young child in him—wide, hopeful blue eyes and a hopeful aura of innocence encompassed him. "Then shall we proceed?"

With a flourishing gesture, Evelyn signalled towards the door. Thor stepped in front of her. Upon wrapping his large hand around the doorknob, the sound of a series of unbolting locks resonated throughout the small room. "The knob has been enchanted to recognize the identity of a select few. Only those of us chosen can access the room. You are included, of course, Evelyn," Thor explained. Evelyn only nodded dumbly, spellbound by the fantastical enchantment. The heavy door groaned on its ancient hinges as Thor pushed it open. They stepped into the room, the door swiftly shutting with finality behind them.

Evelyn jumped a bit, but was careful to stay close to Thor's back. His massive form kept her hidden from view. She couldn't see past the broad stance of the god of thunder, so she contented herself with staying quiet, and staying hidden until he gave her the word.

A low, cold voice spoke up. It sent chills instantly rushing down her spine. "Brother. To what do I owe this most unfortunate pleasure?"

Evelyn had learned that the manner of speaking and tone of a person's voice said a lot about an individual. Loki's voice screamed lethal, dangerous, cruel, and remorseless. As much as she was tempted to make a run for it, straight back out the door behind her and away from the strange and unconventional situation she had willingly put herself in, she stayed put. Being a woman of her word and someone with integrity, Evelyn fought back the childishly cowardly inclination.

"You begin your sessions today. I have brought with me your companion," Thor said, treading carefully.

"Ah, yes, the insignificant Midgardian who the courts intend to have tame the wild beast within me. It is all rather laughable, dear brother," Loki's level voice said scathingly. "And where, pray tell, is this frail mortal who you have so cruelly condemned to a fate worse than madness in death?" he drawled.

Evelyn swallowed back the acidic bile that had risen in her throat during his derisive discourse. Evelyn had no intention of sitting idle while permitting the entitled god to intimidate her. With one quick prayer to God to afford her the necessary strength to deal with Loki, she stepped from behind Thor, making her presence known as she exposed herself to Loki's scrutiny.

The first thing she noticed were the biting and unsettlingly clear emerald eyes that fell upon her, settling over her like an impenetrable layer of probing ice. Then she perceived his impressive height that matched that of his burly brother. The white skin, and pale, pursed lips, the jet-black shoulder length hair, and finally the emerald and black leather outfit he wore followed several seconds later.

His beguiling emerald eyes narrowed at her, a glint of mischief flickering past his frosty gaze. Evelyn straightened her posture, meeting his debilitating gaze full on. Thor's heavy hand fell reassuringly upon her shoulder. She welcomed the small comfort.

"A woman." Loki's voice had lowered a tone, all traces of amusement vanishing from his features. His eyes shifted back to Thor, his face contorted into an expression of suppressed rage and offense. "So the courts send a defenceless woman to reform me. How touching. I certainly hope they realize how perfectly cruel it was of them to send her to me."

His forbidding green eyes turned back to Evelyn and a sadistic smile crept to his lips. He took one long stride towards the two visitors. Thor instinctively stepped forward, partially covering Evelyn's body as he assumed a defensive stance. "You will not harm Miss McPherson, Loki. Recall that the courts are counting on your failure. One step out of line and you will be fortunate to be spared the Executioner," Thor said in a warning tone.

Loki, whose eyes were still firmly settled on Evelyn's face, straightened his posture, looking condescendingly down his straight nose at her. He gracefully raised his two hands, long fingers pointing upwards into the air in a gesture of surrender. Despite the compliant gesture, Evelyn could detect a devious defiance in his countenance from the mischievous quality that had glazed over his eyes. She did not trust him.

Thor mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath. "Loki, this is Miss Evelyn McPherson of Midgard. She has been assigned by the courts to be your confidante and custodian throughout your process of rehabilitation. Her visits will occur five days a week for the next six months, at the end of which she will write up a final examination of your behaviour that will be presented to the courts. Depending on her recommendation, your sentence will either be terminated or reinstated."

Loki seemed to cringe at those words and Evelyn could see his anger mount along with resentment. Thor advanced towards his younger brother and Evelyn turned her gaze to floor, affording the brothers as much discretion as she could.

"Please do not ruin your chances. If any harm comes to Miss McPherson it will be at the expense of your freedom and quite possibly your life." With those solemn words said, Thor turned around to face Evelyn. "Haward will be just outside should you need assistance. Good luck." One more encouraging grin from Thor was offered to her before the god of thunder exited the room leaving her utterly alone with the deadly god. The bolts and locks clicked loudly back into place behind her with a chilling decisiveness that resonated throughout the densest core of her bones.

Loki was watching her carefully, hands clasped behind his back. He said nothing, only observed her with his piercing emerald eyes. She had never seen such disconcertingly clear eyes before. Despite his young appearance—on Earth she would have estimated he was in his early thirties—she knew that he was hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. She shifted under his gaze and had to remind herself that she was not the subject of study in this scenario.

"Well," she sighed, gently removing her satchel from her shoulder and placing it softly on the ground by the nearest winged back seat.

Loki raised an eyebrow, still not speaking as he watched her fidget despite her usual self-controlled comportment.

Evelyn glanced quickly about her. The room was relatively small—it held a hearth, two wingback chairs, a desk and accompanying chair, a single window, and a ridiculously lavish bed dressed in an emerald duvet. Evelyn quirked a brow at that.

"That's rather lavish. For a prison, I mean," she said disapprovingly. "You'd think a murderer would be condemned to less agreeable quarters than this," she said, gesturing to the comfortable room and all its amenities.

Loki lifted his chin in an arrogant gesture. "I may be a prisoner, but I am still a prince of Asgard, and therefore of a more privileged status than the common criminal."

Evelyn laughed lightly at the twisted law enforcement system of Asgard.

"Does something amuse you, Miss McPherson?" his asked, his taciturn voice indignant. Evelyn did not like the way he articulated her name, as if she were another of his prey.

"No, I suppose I have to accept that Asgard's crime and punishment system is somewhat dated," she said nonchalantly, hoping that her jab at his home realm would agitate him. She was successful when he scowled at her words. "It's very different from Midgard. Back home we don't discriminate according to class. You could be the wealthiest, most privileged man on Earth, but at the end of the day, if you murder someone you'll still spend the rest of your life rotting in a four by four, windowless cell dressed in a frightfully orange ensemble."

Loki grimaced at her. "Yes, well, I have always found Midgard's customs to be rather Medieval."

Evelyn pursed her lips in annoyance. She ignored his comment and sat down in one of the wingback chairs. She busied herself with unpacking her notebook along with the case file and profile she'd written on Loki for S.H.I.E.L.D several months prior when he'd been enemy number one. When she looked up she saw the tall, imposing god staring despondently out his cell window.

"Sit down, Rapunzel. You're making me nervous," she said, attempting to lighten the dark mood that had settled over the room. She found that usually a casual approach to counselling sessions always helped to slowly dismantle the barriers her subjects erected—no stiff pantsuit, no authoritative superiority complex, no pretense—just two companions.

Loki shifted his gaze away from the window. "I do not comprehend. What is Rapunzel?"

Evelyn shook her. "It's nothing, just a Midgardian reference."

The leather-clad god approached the set of wingback chairs. He slowly and gracefully lowered himself into the seat. Evelyn watched him closely, riveted. His fluid movements were reminiscent of a predatory animal, each nuanced motion of his tall, lean, muscled frame was deliberate and purposeful. He exuded an uncanny awareness and an aura of control. This room was his territory and clearly he intended to use the foreignness of Asgard to his advantage against her. Unfortunately for him, she was adaptable.

"So, let's begin by talking about you. Perhaps we can start with your childhood?" Evelyn suggested, uncapping her black, ballpoint pen and poising it over her notebook.

Loki's drawn face darkened as a mask of aloofness descended over his features. "I do not see how an examination of my childhood is of any relevance to this process."

Evelyn nodded, pushing aside the sensation of his scrutinizing eyes roving her face. "It is of the utmost pertinence," she said evenly. "It will help you and me to understand some of the reasons or causes that lead to your senseless siege of Earth."

Loki sneered at her. "Senseless? It was one of the most sensible actions I have ever undertaken, Miss McPherson. I was Midgard's promise of peace, prosperity and power. I was going to save you petty, weak-minded people from your own greed and hatred."

Evelyn knew all of this already and she knew that in a way Earth was in a downward spiral. Individualism and capitalism were all ideas that created a divided world. But that didn't mean peace could not be achieved by their own means. The last thing Earth needed was a selfish, entitled leader.

The moment she had felt his cruel emerald eyes fixate upon her after she had first stepped out from behind Thor's back, she had accepted that the process of repairing Loki's clearly distorted perception of the world and his own personal sense of self-righteous entitlement would be harrowing. She anticipated a struggle the entire way.

"I see," she said softly, scribbling down several notes on her pad of paper.

Loki leaned forward in his seat, trying to glimpse what she was writing. Evelyn tilted the page away from his prying eyes, an impish smirk on her face. Loki's lips tightened with outrage.

"I have hardly said anything of consequence. I am quite certain you are well-acquainted with my reasons for targeting Midgard. How can you possibly be writing down anything of relevance?" he asked, frustrated.

He reminded her of a petulant child. She wanted to laugh at the image of a whining infant Loki but she restrained herself. Her amusement would only spark the flame of his wrath towards her. "Sometimes actions speak louder than words," she replied quietly, levelly. Her dark brown eyes carefully met Loki's entrancing emerald orbs. His lips moulded into an indignant sneer, his shoulders tensing in an unresponsive posture. He clearly had no intention of opening up to her.

"Clearly you resent this situation," Evelyn said casually, folding her hands in her lap. "Let's talk about why that might be?"

Loki leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. His dark hair fell on either side of his face and a taunting smirk graced his lips. "You're so clever, Miss McPherson, you tell me," he replied evenly, challenging her.

"Fine." She rose from her seat, crossing the room, past Loki to the small window. She looked beyond the round opening. The view was spectacular. The entirety of Asgard was laid out before her eyes, the golden and copper roofs, the white stone and busy market square stretched endlessly outward, and in the distance was the prism-like rainbow bridge.

"It must wound your sensitive pride to know that you need to behave yourself around me and conduct yourself in a manner that will please me. You must despise the fact that your fate is in the hands of a Midgardian woman. You have to fight your instinct to physically lash out at me or emotionally wound me if you want to attain the freedom you so desperately long for."

Her shoulders stiffened when she felt his presence behind her, the brush of his chest against the back of her head. She bit her lip and took a deep, calming breath. "This view is spectacular."

"You are painfully foolish, Miss McPherson, to speak so candidly with me." Loki's nearness caused his words to reverberate through her chest. She carefully turned around and found him standing an inch away from her, her eyes level with his chest. She looked daringly up into his eyes, which proved to be a difficult feat as he was over a head taller than her.

"I think you deserve honesty, Loki, especially after the heinous crimes you've committed. I won't sugar coat our sessions. The first step is for you to recognize that the monstrosities you executed against my people were unforgivable. You are cruel, selfish, angered, remorseless and deluded." Her voice was low with determination.

In a heartbeat his cold hand was around her throat, severing her air supply. His emerald eyes were dark with unsuppressed animosity. He slammed her against the wall, momentarily sending stars shooting brightly across her vision. An irate snarl was on his lips. "How does it really make you feel, Loki, to know that your realm believes you to be a traitor, a disgrace to Asgard?" she asked. He growled, squeezing her throat harder until she was gasping for air. "Don't hold back now," she chuckled hoarsely, biding her time.

"You stupid wench," he sneered. "How dare you insult me, insignificant as you are? You know nothing of me!" He leaned forward until his cool breath tingled across her cheek, the tip of his nose almost touching her own. When black spots began to pop across her vision she knew she had waited long enough. Recalling the moderate training she had undergone with Natasha, she forcefully kneed the tall god in the groin. His face contorted with agony as he bent forward at the waist, releasing the column of her throat. Satisfied, she shoved him away and aimed a kick at his face while still bent double. She caught him in the chin and he nearly fell backwards but managed to catch himself.

He purposefully straightened his posture and rubbed his chin, a callously pleased smirk on his face. "It would appear that you are not as weak as most women, Miss McPherson." He took two languid steps towards her, each fluid motion laced with the threat of attack.

"You'll come to find that I am not as defenseless as you think," she quipped. A motion from her left hand attracted his gaze, anticipating an attack from her left he shifted position. Using his temporary distraction to her advantage she thrust the heel of her right palm upwards, slamming it into his frustratingly perfect, straight nose.

A howl of pain fled his lips as blood poured from his face. Evelyn clutched her now throbbing hand to her chest, but didn't pause for a second before she grabbed her satchel, stuffing her notes into it. She threw it over her shoulder and lunged for the door. Before she could reach it, however, an incensed Loki appeared in her way, fresh blood covering his lower face. He carelessly wiped it away with the back of his hand. His emerald eyes were wild with maddened rage.

No words were exchanged between them, but Evelyn's fingers slowly inched into her bag where her tranquilizer gun was nestled. When she found no trace of it, her eyes widened. Loki smirked at her with sadistic amusement and pulled the weapon in question from the lining of his green and black leather overcoat. He waved it tauntingly before her face.

"Did Thor not tell you? It is highly inadvisable to turn your back on the god of mischief and lies. I do not care for playing fair." He held the gun up in front of him, looking distastefully at it. "Guns—such unsophisticated weapons," he said testily. "It would hardly leave a mark on a god like me, Miss McPherson."

Evelyn ground her teeth. "I know that," she replied defensively. "It's a tranquilizer gun. Its effects are debilitating—paralyzing. I don't like to use guns," she admitted, then scolded herself for opening up about herself in front of the clearly unhinged demi-god.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Guns provide mortals with a false sense of security," he mused. Evelyn withheld a look of surprise when he nonchalantly returned the weapon to her. Talk about bipolar—murderous to calm in manner of seconds. She had never seen someone quite like him. She held the weapon in her hands for a moment considering firing a shot at him for satisfaction's sake. Instead she replaced it in her bag. Cautiously, she stepped around his tall frame towards the door. When he made no protest she took hold of the knob. The magical properties endowed on the door were set to unlock at an authorized touch. Before she could pull open the door, a freezing hand fell upon her shoulder, restraining her with aggressive force.

Loki leaned down towards her. "Do not mistake me, Miss McPherson," he whispered in a deadly voice. "If you lay another hand on my person, I will not hesitate to break every single bone in your tiny hands." She felt goose pimples explode down her body when his cool fingers slid gently down the length of her arm and brushed the top of her hand where it lay at her side. "I will take pleasure in the satisfying snap of each and every bone." Evelyn looked over her shoulder at him, held captive by his incapacitating green eyes. "As you yourself so kindly articulated, I am cruel and remorseless, and I will not be hindered by the fact that you are a woman. Mark me. This is my one and only warning."

Evelyn pulled away from the grip he had on her shoulder. "I'm not scared of you," she said quietly.

Loki stood to his full height of six foot three and looked down his bloodied nose at her. "You should be." With those chilling words he drew away from her, turning his back on her and walking towards the unlit hearth. Evelyn took a steadying breath before exiting Loki's isolated room.

She nodded at the stern looking guard on duty before shakily making her way down the spiral staircase, heart thudding loudly in her chest. Her carefully constructed mask of confidence slowly slipped from her face as her entire body trembled, the adrenaline that had just been coursing through her blood quickly fading, leave her cold and shivering. Reality struck her in the face like a backhanded slap. Loki was unlike any criminal she had ever dealt with. It was uncontestable—she was in _way_ over her head.


	4. A Lesson in Humility

**Glad you guys enjoyed the latest chapter. Now a quick shout out:**

**A Pirate By Any Other Name: Thanks for the lovely review. And I too adore her glasses :)**

**Camierose: Thanks for the review!**

**Loki'sTimeLady: Tehehe. You clever, clever reader. I approve :)**

4: A Lesson in Humility

Evening rolled around quickly that day, following her first encounter with Loki. Evelyn grudgingly adorned the Asgardian dress laid out for her. She would have preferred skipping the evening meal altogether and going straight to sleep. Her session with Loki had tired her out, and not just because it had been physically demanding, but because she was mentally exhausted. Her head was pounding like a sledgehammer taken to a brick wall with a vengeance.

Thor graciously escorted her to the dining hall. He had informed her that the King and Queen would not be joining them. They had 'prior engagements' to tend to. Evelyn didn't ask questions, but as she entered the hall she immediately noticed several new faces. Once she was seated, Thor eagerly made introductions.

"Miss McPherson, may I introduce several of my warrior companions and very good friends of mine. This is Hogun," he said, gesturing to a man of smaller stature with black hair. Hogun nodded at her but remained quiet. He didn't appear to be overly chatty.

"This beast of a man is the great warrior, Volstagg," he continued. Volstagg, a large, rotund man with unkempt red hair and an impressive beard glanced up at her in between taking ravenous mouthfuls of the succulent drumstick he held in his hands.

"Puhlersher," he mumbled, mouth overflowing with food as he attempted to chew and swallow. He took a swig from his chalice, a few drops of wine dripping down his curly beard, as he washed the food down. "Pleasure," he repeated with a warm smiled. Evelyn couldn't help but smile back at the spectacle of a man.

"This charming, white-toothed flirt of a man is Fandral," Thor said after laughing at the expense of Volstagg's amusing display.

Fandral bowed over the table at her, wisps of blond hair falling into his pretty blue eyes. He reached for her hand and brushed a warm, lingering kiss across the top. He looked up at her through his lashes. "Never have I seen such a becoming woman of Midgard. You truly are an impressive woman to have taken it upon yourself to rehabilitate Loki." Evelyn blushed, taken aback by his forward flirting.

"Enough, Fandral. Leave the poor girl alone, you fox," snapped the black-haired woman sitting to his left. She turned her dark brown eyes to Evelyn and smiled curtly. "I am the warrior Sif. It is an honour to make your acquaintance." She shot Fandral a scathing look. "You'll have to forgive Fandral. He has a habit of coming onto anything with appealing breasts," she said bluntly.

The men at the table began to choke on their food and drink, bright red blushes colouring their surprised faces. Evelyn laughed at the view. She definitely appreciated Sif's personality.

Fandral looked defensive. "I was merely paying the lovely lady a compliment."

"After you had thoroughly examined the width of her bosom, yes," Sif replied evenly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Fandral fell silent, shovelling a generous morsel of bread into his mouth, his eyes averted.

"How was your first session with Loki," Thor asked, by way of clearing the air of embarrassed tensions.

Evelyn took a sip from the water glass by her plate. "I broke his nose."

A brief silence followed before Volstagg and Fandral burst into laughter. Thor gave her a disapproving look. Suddenly hating the attention that was being aimed at her, she contented herself with eating quietly until the laughter died down.

"How did you manage that?" Fandral exclaimed, amused.

"He overstepped the line a bit and crossed into my space. I have some combat training and, well, it kind of just unravelled that way," she explained as a matter of justifying her behaviour.

"Evelyn, you must be careful around Loki. He will not forgive such an act against his character," Thor warned her, his tone serious.

Evelyn nodded understandingly. "I know. He told me so himself. I just hope that come tomorrow he'll have had ample time to cool his wounded ego."

Sif gave her a doubtful look. "I would not count on a level-headed Loki. He holds grudges very easily."

With a shrug that silently conveyed her unwillingness to share anymore of her experience with them, they immersed themselves in casual conversation, discussing the likes of Jotun activity, training sessions, and Frigga's newly blooming hollyhock patch courtesy of Midgardian flora. Evelyn remained quiet throughout the meal, throwing in a word or two where she could. Aside from those few words, she was content to sit and listen to the age-old friends engage in friendly banter.

A longing had settled in her stomach. She missed Natasha and the Avengers. She longed to have someone to talk to. Thor was friendly enough, to be sure, but she could not talk to him about the doubts and fears his brother inflicted upon her conscience. Pleading fatigue, Evelyn excused herself from dinner early. She needed rest. Tomorrow there would be a storm.

OOOOO

There was a storm the next day, only it was of the silent variety, one that rages dark and looming but removed from direct contact with its surroundings. Loki had been unresponsive to her the following day. He had scowled at her and glared, shot snide comments at her and insulted her at every turn. Evelyn, however, was unperturbed by his nasty, spiteful behaviour. His menacing attitude was a common response to the inevitability of eventually having to expose his thoughts, feelings, and past with her. Vulnerability was a frightening thing and not a sentiment that a heinous criminal wants to feel. Loki had placed himself in an emotionally-removed straightjacket and he clearly had no intention of breaking out of it.

After one week of tolerating his distant, uncompromising attitude, Evelyn had had quite enough. It had never taken her this long to get a single read out of someone. He was testing her patience and he knew it.

"You're one tough egg to crack," she said on the first day of their second week together.

"I do not understand your vulgar colloquialism," he said, unmoved.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "It means you're very resilient against my efforts to have you open up about yourself."

Loki nodded, the corners of his lips upturning into a self-important smile. "You mean that my stubbornness frustrates you," he said in an attempt to get a rise out of her.

She didn't take the bait. "No. I'm very patient. It's best not to rush things. Everything happens for a reason," she replied, her brown eyes glancing up from her notebook. He was looking at her, his emerald eyes unblinking.

"You believe in fate? In predetermination?" he asked disdainfully.

"I believe that there's a greater power at work in the world."

Loki snorted derisively. "You humans are so idealistic. And you think _I_ am deluded." He shook his condescendingly.

Narrowing her eyes, Evelyn indignantly jutted out her chin. "That's because you are. What happened that made you set on ruling Midgard and killing innocent civilians? Is it because you never felt equal to your older brother in the eyes of your father? Is it because Thor seems to always end up the hero, the championed son? Is it because no matter what you did or how desperately hard you tried to impress your father, you were consistently overshadowed by your brother's glories? Is it because your parents lied about the truth of your biological parents? I think it's because you wanted to feel power and know what it felt like to be both praised and feared. I think that it was your insecurities about whether you were loved by your family and respected. Is that why? Was all that you wanted to be loved?" she asked, her eyes growing hot with unshed tears as she allowed herself to absorb those painful emotions and insecurities.

"Enough!" Loki roared, slamming his fist on the table beside the winged-back chair in which he sat. The feeble legs of the table trembled under the mighty weight of his fist, and then shattered, sending dangerous splints of wood flying haphazardly in all directions.

Evelyn could not bring herself to look away from his furious green eyes. There it was—the vulnerability that she had been waiting for. She had finally hit a nerve, and a sensitive one too.

"You have no right to make those assumptions! I am not an animal to be debased by your insensitive, ignorant examinations," he said angrily, rising, his face contorted in an expression of fury.

Evelyn rose as well, her body instinctively reverting into defensive mode. "I'm sorry, Loki. But if you won't willingly help yourself, then I have no choice but to be abrasive with you."

He turned his back to her, leaning his forearm against the mantle of the fireplace. Evelyn cautiously approached him. "Understand me, Loki. I don't want to hurt you. I just need to know." She gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

He whipped around violently and grabbed her hand, squeezing it until she had to bite back a whimper of pain. "Do not," he hissed, "touch me, you pathetically worthless, ignorant quim." He roughly thrust her hand away from him, glowering down at her.

Evelyn bristled at the crude insult. "I think that's enough for the day," she said stiffly, rubbing her temples. Clearly familial issues were sensitive and personal matters to him. She would have to broach the topic another time. He was too riled today. She packed her bag and made to leave. He did not protest. Evelyn paused at the door and glanced back at him.

"Your family loves you, Loki," she whispered. She knew he could hear her. She had learned from Thor that god's had sensitive hearing when he had heard her mumble a sarcastic remark under her breath a few days past.

His lean back stiffened at her words. "Do not speak of things that you do not understand, Miss McPherson," he said in a low voice. "You sound foolish when you do."

Evelyn's hand fell away from the doorknob as she turned to face his back completely. "Why do you think I'm here, Loki?"

"To make me miserable," he retorted, turning to face her from across the room.

She hiked her satchel higher onto her shoulder. "No. To restore you to your family. I made a promise to Odin that I would convince the courts to grant you clemency. I _promised _him. He wants his son back, and so does your mother and Thor."

Loki shook his head, a scowl on his lips. "I do not believe you. Odin would rather see me publicly disgraced and flogged."

"Well. You're the god of lies. You would know a lie if ever you did hear one. So am I lying to you?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

He studied her face carefully, and a look of doubt shot across his dark features. But just as quickly it was gone and replaced by resentment.

"I will only ever be honest with you, Loki. That's my policy. Beyond these four walls there's a family waiting for you. Make amends. Take it from someone who doesn't have parents," she said, then quickly cleared her throat when her voice cracked with pained emotion. Loki's hard gaze softened infinitesimally at her words, but his defensive scowl remained in place. "You don't realize what you have until you've lost it."

She left then, softly closing the door behind her.

OOOOO

Evelyn dragged her feet the entire way up the spiralling staircase to Loki's tower the next afternoon. She was exhausted and hadn't slept more than an hour the previous night. To say she wasn't in the mood to deal with an impossibly stubborn Loki was a gross understatement. She walked past the young guard who was replacing Haward for the next two weeks. He never said anything to her. In fact, she had a feeling that the brutish looking man didn't like her much. His small, beady black eyes would follow her movements with distrust and distaste.

She knocked and opened the door to his cell. Loki was staring unseeingly into the billowing flames in the hearth. She could see the ashen frame of the table he had smashed just yesterday feeding the voracious tongues of fire. She shut the door firmly behind her.

"Hello."

There was no response from Loki who looked bored out of his mind as he continued to stare blankly into the flames. Evelyn would be bored too if she had to pass the day with nothing to occupy herself with. She took her usual seat across from him, enjoying the welcome warmth of the fire. It was freezing outside that day and she gratefully tucked her legs beneath her, rubbing her chilled hands as the heat gently permeated her icy body.

"Why do wear shields over your eyes?"

Loki's question caught her off guard. She unconsciously straightened the round-framed glasses that were perched on her nose. "They aren't shields." She smiled to herself. "They're medically prescribed lenses that help to improve my vision."

Loki frowned, confused, and turned to look at her. "You can see further than the average human, then?" he asked by means of clarification.

"No. My eyes are actually weaker than most people. I need glasses if I want to see at all."

A distasteful scowl lit his face. "How impractical."

Evelyn nodded, pursing her lips as an uncomfortable silence settled about them.

Loki relaxed his tall, muscular frame back into his seat, absently rubbing his chin. "You said yesterday that you have no parents," he stated. Evelyn nodded cautiously. "What happened to them?"

She remained silent for a moment. Reliving memories of her parents' passing was painful for her. Not a day went by that she did not miss them. A few hot tears welled along her eye-line as she reminisced. "They were on their way back from a New Year's Eve party at a friend's home. I was only eleven, so my Gramps was babysitting me." She smiled sadly. "I remember we were going to bake chocolate chip cookies but ended up eating the raw cookie dough instead." Shaking her head lightly, she continued. "They were killed in a head on collision with another driver. He was twenty-two and intoxicated. His senses were severely impaired and he steered his car across the medium and straight into their car." Her voice faded out shakily as a tear spilled from her eye, she rapidly wiped it away and shrugged, embarrassed. "Sorry," she mumbled.

Loki was frowning at her, his discerning green eyes were thoughtful for once as opposed to resentful. "I am sorry for your parents, Miss McPherson. I have never known such a bond with parents. My parentage, as you well know, was a deception." He sneered distastefully.

"It was a long time ago," she said, brushing it off. "Besides, these sessions aren't about me, are they?" A scowl manifested on his lips at her words. "Why don't you tell me about you and your brother growing up?" she suggested.

The lean god mumbled something incoherent under his breath. "Thor and I were close as children. We fought very little and wasted the hours of each day away pretending to be grand warriors and Kings of fantastical realms. Thor was always theatrical. He basked in our silly games. I, of course, indulged him," Loki said tersely.

"And you're telling me that as a child you didn't find these games amusing?" Evelyn asked, knowing it was impossible, another one of his lies.

Loki looked indignant. "I suppose, my naïve, infant-self found amusement. Of course, as we grew older we grew further apart. I immersed myself in academic studies and sorecery while Thor preferred the company of loose women and senseless fighting. We were very dissimilar, and still are," he said, sourly.

Evelyn leaned forward, intent on hearing his words. Their conversations had never flowed so easily before. She liked to think that yesterday's bluntness had snapped the riggings keeping the wall he had built around himself up.

"Of course it all makes sense now," he continued bitterly. "We are not brothers, after all."

Evelyn frowned at that, daring to interrupt his monologue. "Biology does not a brother make."

Loki's vibrant emerald eyes found her sincere brown ones. "I beg your pardon?"

She knew Loki had heard what she'd said so she re-articulated. "You were raised as brothers and the bonds you formed are those of brothers. You may not be blood, but you are still family. Thor loves you," Evelyn insisted. "I know you don't want to believe it, but your family loves you."

Loki grunted, clearly not receptive to the idea. "Who could love a monster?" he said in barely a whisper.

Evelyn pounced on his admission. "Why do think you're a monster?"

The harsh laugh that fled Loki's lips left her shivering. It was an empty, hollow sound, the laugh of a tormented man who thought himself alone in an unforgiving world. "You know very well, Miss McPherson. You have been kind enough to remind me of my heinous crimes at every given opportunity."

"Do you regret your actions?" she pressed, eager to see his response.

His emerald eyes shifted to the fire as he contemplated ponderings known only to him. "No," he said softly, his pale features illuminated in the fiery light.

Evelyn shook her heard. She knew a lie when she heard one. "You're lying."

Loki averted his gaze back to hers. "No." He rose from his seat, shoulders stiff with anger, and took two long strides, closing the space between them. He bent over, and placing his hands on either side of her seat,leaned over her until his emerald gaze was level with hers. "I regret nothing, only that my efforts were thwarted by my meddling brother and his idiotic companions."

Evelyn drew in a shallow breath, taken aback by his proximity to her. His face filled her vision and the first thought that swam to the forefront of her mind was that he was a remarkably handsome god, in a dangerously attractive way. She swallowed back her desire to touch the pale skin of his cheek. What was wrong with her? Chastising herself for her imprudent thoughts, she leaned away from him until her shoulders were pressed deep into the back of the chair.

"You don't really mean that," she insisted, scolding herself when her voice wavered.

Loki, perceptive as he was, effortlessly detected her nervousness. A smirk graced his lips and he leaned closer to her. "You're looking rather flushed, Miss McPherson? Do I make you nervous?"

Evelyn's throat was dry and she slowly licked her lips. Loki's eyes carefully followed the motion before returning to stare deeply into her brown eyes. He was impossibly close to her now and alarm bells were sounding in her head. Loki did not strike her as a man of insatiable appetites, but being isolated and tortured for six months and condemned to another six of rehabilitation had surely left him in want of some things. Not wanting to wait to test those speculative waters, Evelyn fluidly slid off the chair and beneath his arm, stumbling to her feet.

"You need to back off," she scolded, shaking her index finger warningly at him. He remained where he was and turned to face her, a jeering grinning on his lips. She cleared her throat, attempting to come across more authoritative than she felt in the moment. "You just can't invade my personal space like that. It's disconcerting. I am a professional and you need to know that I won't fall for your charms."

Loki's laugh flowed easily from his lips. The deep, rich sound was simply lovely and brimming with surprising warmth that Evelyn would have never expected to hear from a man as cold as Loki. "You think me charming?"

Evelyn blushed indignantly. "I think you're a right pain in the ass at the moment, quite frankly," she snapped back defensively, straightening her glasses which had gone askew in her haste to escape from the prison formed by Loki's arms.

He frowned at that as he turned to fully face her. "The ease with which the simplest words cause you to blush amuses me."

Evelyn bristled at that. His aptitude for turning the tables on their conversations and making her feel like the subject of examination was uncanny. "Yes, well, enjoy it while you can, because I'm done with you for today, and tomorrow is my day off," she said curtly.

She made to snatch her messenger bag from where it lay on the ground by Loki's large, black booted feet. Just as she lifted it a foot off the ground, the god sneakily stepped on the strap. The bag fell from her hand. Evelyn stood upright and glared at him. "Get off my bag."

"Say please," he taunted.

"I won't hesitate to bust your nose again," Evelyn threatened in low voice.

Loki's emerald eyes twinkled with mischievous playfulness. "I'll be ready for you this time. Now, say please."

"You…" she muttered, beginning to formulate an effective insult. Instead she restrained herself and took a calming breath. "Loki. Would you please remove your foot from my bag," she looked up at him with large, chocolate eyes and sweetly blinked twice in an attempt to ruffle the recalcitrant prince's arrogant tail-feathers.

He stared at her for a moment, an emotion that she couldn't quite decipher flitting across his face. She was surprised, to say the least, when he bent down to retrieve the bag himself and slipped it gently over her head, arranging the strap properly across her body. She gaped at him for a moment before looking down at her feet and mumbling a quick, "Thanks". She realized she was blushing and hurried out of the suddenly stifling room without so much as saying goodbye.

His humble gesture struck a chord in Evelyn's chest. For him to bestow a kind gesture upon her was significant of him slowly opening up to her and respecting her. Evelyn skipped down the tower staircase, a hop in her step, and heart light with the hope that progress was imminent. Today had certainly ended as a lesson in humility for the arrogant god.


	5. Professionalism Tested

**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews. You guys are grand! **

5: Professionalism Tested

Two more weeks had gone by and the last week of her first month on Asgard quickly rolled around. Loki, unexpectedly, had been remarkably reserved and quiet. He hadn't spoken much, but she could tell he was distracted by his thoughts. Little progress had been made, but she had gotten Loki to admit that he cared deeply for his mother, that it was for her sake he had initially obliged the courts in the first place and agreed to the terms of receiving counselling. Evelyn had made sure to note it all down. He clearly cared deeply for his adopted mother, the queen Frigga, admitting that she had always doted upon him and had never favoured Thor above him, unlike his father.

Evelyn was eager to delve into Loki's relationship with his father. The resentment that laced his words whenever he spoke of the Allfather, Odin, was impossible to overlook, and she anticipated that when he finally addressed his paternal-issues it would prove to be a very provoking and emotionally cathartic experience.

At the moment, Evelyn was following Thor to a small room in the East Wing of the palace that held the Midgardian technology that had been developed to communicate between the realms. She had reported to Fury last week for the first time since the first two weeks had been fairly uninteresting, save for the part where Loki had attempted to strangle her and she had broken his nose, but she thought it best to leave out that minor detail. During her first communication she had said very little aside from informing him that she had settled in just fine and that Loki, unsurprisingly was being uncooperative. Today would be her second report.

Thor flicked a switch and twisted a black knob. The large machine fired to life, the screen that would reveal the face of whichever S.H.I.E.L.D. operative was waiting to receive the signal flickered to life. Evelyn was overjoyed when Natasha Romanoff's scowling face manifested on the screen in poor resolution.

"Natasha!" she exclaimed, glad to not have to confront the unfriendly face of Director Fury. Thor politely took his leave.

Agent Romanoff grimaced at Evelyn's delighted exclamation. "Hey. What's got you in such a painfully happy mood?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "It's just good to be able to talk to a friend instead of Patch," she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Natasha laughed. "So how've you been, kiddo? How has the prisoner been behaving?"

Evelyn pursed her lips. "He's complex. And fascinating."

Agent Romanoff rolled her eyes dramatically. "Only you would call a murderer fascinating."

"There's more to him than meets the eye, is all. I've only just scraped the surface of what I'm certain will prove to be a painfully tormented soul," she explained, pushing her glasses to the top of her head.

"Well, I hope he hasn't been mistreating you. I know how deluded you can be when justifying a criminal's cruel behaviour towards you," Natasha asked, chastising what she considered to be her friend's naivety.

"You'll be sadistically pleased to know that I broke Loki's nose on the first day," Evelyn admitted.

Natasha's eyes widened. "Damn, girl! And he hasn't killed you yet? Now I'm stunned speechless."

"He's really not that bad," Evelyn said contemplatively.

Agent Romanoff sat up straighter on her side of the transmitter. "How can you say that? Doesn't it irritate you to have to be civil with a man who sought world domination through mass genocide?" she demanded.

Evelyn shrugged. She had to see beyond the evil masks that criminals erected, it was her job to dig deeper than anyone else would care to. She couldn't help herself. Redeeming those who society deemed as irredeemable was like an innate instinct. Even if someone's humanity would never be restored, at least she could try to understand what caused their actions and in the future try to pre-empt the same situation from recurring.

The two friends bantered for a bit longer, filling each other in on progress. According to Natasha, S.H.I.E.L.D. was at the top of its game, functioning at its highest potential and keeping international threats at bay. Nothing out of the ordinary had come about recently and, after an hour of idle chitchat, they said their goodbyes.

"Tell everyone hello for me. I miss you guys," Evelyn said sadly.

"Will do, McPherson," Natasha replied, signing off.

Evelyn shut down the machine, reversing the process she had seen Thor execute to turn it on, and left the transmitter room. She wandered through the palace until she found Thor training with Sif and Volstagg in the west courtyard.

"Evie!" he called, waving Mjolnir in the air as if attempting to land a plane.

Evelyn smiled, suppressing laughter, as she went to join them. "Hey."

"Was your communication with Midgard successful?" Thor asked, lowering his large weapon and placing it head down on the ground.

"It was, yes," Evelyn said, her gaze distracted by the dazzling sword that Sif clutched in her hands. The hilt was golden and studded with royal purple gems. The blade itself was black as night. She had never seen anything so beautiful. "That's a stunning sword," she said, eyes lingering over the nuance curve of the blade's edge.

Sif glanced at her weapon, twirling it expertly between her nimble fingers before reasserting a firm grip on it and giving it two shakes. Her dark eyes shone with pride. "It is the weapon of the Dark Elves. I defeated one in battle some hundred years ago and claimed its weapon as my own. I rarely use it in battle, thought." The goddess held the blade out to Evelyn, whose eyes in turn widened nervously. Sif laughed. "Take it."

With shaky hands, Evelyn reached for the majestic weapon. Surprised by its lightness in comparison to its size, she lightly ran her fingers over the cool, glace-like surface of the blade. A strange tingling began in her fingertips and travelled through the length of her arm. It was unlike anything she had every felt before, a burn of power and an immense strength of the likes she had never known permeated her body. With a gasp she released the blade. It fell soundlessly onto the ground.

Evelyn had the decency to blush at her carelessness. "Sif, I'm so sorry."

Sif raised a hand to silence her apology. "There's no need." She retrieved the sword, a thoughtful smile on her lips. "You felt it, didn't you?"

Evelyn's eyes widened. She nodded mutely, unable to put the foreign sensation into cohesive words. "What was it?"

Thor spoke up, eager to be part of the conversation again. "The Dark Elves are a magical species. Their swords are forged by magic. No manual hand could ever achieve a weapon with equal dynamic finesse to the sword of a Dark Elf," he said.

"The magic used to forge the blade still runs through it, like blood within veins. When the handler bears the weapon they experience a brief high. From your reaction, however, I think it would be logical to assume that the sensation is somewhat amplified in a mortal," Sif mused.

The criminologist could only nod, bewildered. Magic had been something she'd read in works of fantasy, in beloved childhood lullabies and fairy tales. In Asgard it was more than an inanimate concept, it was a living muscle, present across the realms. Slowly she began to register what had at first been too fantastically surreal to believe. She was surrounded by magic—Asgard operated on it; Thor's godly powers, the powers of the Bifrost, the sword of the Dark Elf. Magic was the fuel behind almost everything.

"You look somewhat pale, Miss McPherson. Perhaps you would like to sit down?" Volstagg asked considerately, speaking up for the first time since she'd joined the small group.

Shaking her head, she declined the offer. "I just wanted to stop by before heading to my session with Loki."

"How have the sessions been?" Thor asked, his voice holding a twinge of interest on behalf of his brother. "He does not share what happens in these sessions with me whenever I visit him. He is very private about it."

Evelyn shrugged, uneasy. She wasn't really supposed to share what went on between she and Loki—the whole professional integrity of patient confidentiality. But Thor was a concerned brother… She relented.

"Loki is stubborn, mostly. He broods quite a bit and he can change from pleasant to wrathful in the blink of an eye. It's unlike anything I've ever seen. He's gradually opening up to me, granted I've really had to take advantage of his changeable emotions. Honestly, he's very unpredictable," Evelyn admitted. She wouldn't share the deeper, rawer emotions that Loki had shown indicators of withholding with Thor, but she could at least give him a general sense of their professional relationship.

Thor smiled grimly, his crystalline blue eyes saddening. "I have known Loki for thousands of years, and yet I cannot tell you the truth of his character, for he has many, and they are as volatile as the winds. I know not which, if any, is truly who he is. Loki is an enigma, Evie. But to know that you have made some progress lightens my heart. I thank you," he said, squeezing her shoulder in his large, warm hand in the manner that an older brother would a sister.

"Now," he continued in a perkier tone, letting his hand fall away from her shoulder, "you should know that I will begin making regular trips between Asgard and Midgard to visit both Jane and S.H.I.E.L.D. I will be gone for several days at a time and will not be able to protect you," he explained severely.

Evelyn brushed off his concern. "Don't worry about me, Thor. I can take care of myself."

"That may be, but it would ease my anxieties if I were to know that you'd go to one of my companions should the need ever arise that you require assistance."

"We'll watch out for her," Sif said firmly. Volstagg nodded from beside her. He was eating a plump purple fruit, its sweet juices dripping down his chin and through his beard. Evelyn couldn't understand where Volstagg had produced the fruit from, but was not more surprised than that. Volstagg had proven to be a man who enjoyed the finer aspects of life—food and drink being high on his list of priorities.

She left the group of companions to their training several minutes later. Having lost track of time, she realized she was running several minutes late. She jogged up the tower steps, taking them two at a time. Thankfully, she'd begun a new jogging routine to strengthen her legs. She managed to reach the top in record time. Once on level ground, she paused to catch her breath.

She recognized Haward, the kinder of the two guards who alternated their duties to watch Loki's cell, whose impressive height and girth reminded her greatly of Thor. He cast her an amused half-grin. He was the image of a godly sentinel, dressed in golden armour, large sword sheathed at his hip and his typical Asgardian helmet decorated by two upward curving prongs.

"Running late today, Miss McPherson?" he chided.

Evelyn managed to laugh in between pants of breath. "Lost track of time," she explained.

"The inmate is in a foul mood this afternoon. I thought it would be the gallant course of action to inform you in advance," he said kindly before falling silent, senses alert.

Offering quick thanks, Evelyn reached for the door, bolts unlocking in recognition of her touch. She shut the door securely behind her. Loki was standing at the centre of the room, arms crossed and glaring at her. His emerald eyes bore into her with quiet irritation, and his pale lips were pursed disapprovingly.

"You're late."

"Hello to you too," she mumbled, repressing the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him.

He continued to glare down at her. "What took you so long?" he demanded.

Evelyn discarded her bag and made herself comfortable in her usual spot. She stretched her short legs out in front of her, sighing as the lingering burn of physical assertion in her thighs reared its head. "I lost track of time."

He snorted condescendingly. "A disregard for punctuality is very unprofessional, you know."

Haward had been right. Loki was in right foul mood. Ignoring his jibe at her professionalism, she gently tucked her legs beneath her and perched her glasses on top of her head, reading through some of her notes. Evelyn knew exactly what she wanted to discuss with Loki today—his relationship with his brother last year and the reason he first sent the Destroyer to Earth to annihilate his brother and burn Puente Antigua, New Mexico to ash.

"Did you really intend to kill Thor when you sent the Destroyer after him?" she asked abruptly, gaze not wavering from the illegible notes scribbled down in her notebook. When only silence answered her inquiry she glanced up. Loki was frowning at her, but his green eyes were hazed over as if weighing distracting thoughts.

"Why else would I send an unassailable automaton after him?" he asked calmly, his gaze flickering to hers.

"Don't answer a question with a question. Tell me why you did it, Loki," she said again, reasserting her question with an authoritative edge.

The god of mischief brought his hands behind his back, clasping them together. His gaze turned to his small window. "You should know that the Destroyer was an extension of me," he said evenly. "I controlled its actions and reactions. Had I wanted to kill my brother, the warriors, or his trivial, mortal woman, I would have."

Evelyn nodded. "So you never intended to kill your brother?"

Loki's eyes met hers. He gritted his teeth and flexed his jaw as if battling with the words that were forming on his tongue. "In my rage, I was certain that I did. And when I nearly killed him," he paused, brow creasing. He suddenly looked tired, ancient even. "When I nearly killed Thor," he repeated, "I could not bring myself to end his life. So I let him defeat me."

A sigh of accomplishment escaped Evelyn's lips. She hadn't counted on such progress with him. "You love Thor. I understand," she said softly.

Loki's gaze turned harsh then as he leered at her. "Just because I have cooperated with your futile efforts, Miss McPherson, and indulged you by responding to several of your prying questions, does not mean you can claim to know my feelings. Do not put words in my mouth. I am a god, and sentiment is something that I have steeled myself against. Thor might have adopted the mortal emotion, but I refuse to thus belittle myself," he said, his voice growling. "Sentiment is vulgar. It is weakness," he spat.

Evelyn frowned at him. "Sentimentality isn't vulgar or weakness. Maybe if you had a little sentiment you wouldn't be so alone and miserable. Maybe a little romanticism in your perspective of life would find you the happiness that Thor has found with Jane Foster and that so far has eluded you," she argued, eager to defend the notion of sentimentality. She had always been a self-proclaimed romantic, and in a world brimming with cruelty and selfishness, sometimes what people needed was a little sentimentality and idealization.

Loki sniffed ungraciously, a cruel smile on his face. "You human women are so idealistic and naïve. It is laughable how you succumb to such notions as true romance. I suppose you all swoon senselessly over the first handsome man who smiles at you."

Evelyn bristled angrily. "How can you be so callous? Don't you ever wish there was someone waiting for you to be released, someone to have and to hold. To cherish?" Her voice was rising as her annoyance heightened.

His unsympathetic eyes fell coldly upon her. "I don't need anyone. I have and always will function best on my own."

Evelyn shook her head, disbelieving. "Listen to yourself. You're too blind to realize that a relatively significant portion of your anger comes from being alone."

"Don't be foolish," he snapped. "As I have already stated. I. Don't. Need. Anyone." He bit each word out as if they tasted foul in his mouth.

"Everyone needs someone," she said quietly, tired of arguing with him.

Loki's eyes narrowed and realization crossed his features. "Oh. I see." A taunting smile graced his lips.

Evelyn swallowed. His expression wasn't one she was overly fond of. He was plotting something. "See what?" she asked, rising defensively to her feet.

In a few long gaits, Loki was a foot away from her. "Miss McPherson, I do believe you are a romantic, and one who longs to be loved. Am I right?"

Evelyn's face remained emotionlessly stoic as he mocked her.

"You're alone and desperately long to have someone to love and be loved by. Surely it must pacify your tormented existence to know that you aren't the only one who will spend the rest of their life alone and miserable, never knowing the purity of reciprocated love. Isn't that right?" He leaned towards her, his cool breath brushing across her face. Traitorous tears welled at the corners of her eyes, but all she could coherently think of was just how magnificently rich Loki's dark, emerald eyes were as they filled her vision. "Take comfort, my dear, in knowing that you and I are not so different."

One tear slipped down her face, along the crevice of her nose, before resting above the subtle curve of her lip. Loki's bright green eyes followed the droplet's journey. Evelyn's breath caught in her chest as he placed his hand lightly beneath her chin and wiped the tear away, purposely dragging the calloused pad of his thumb down her lips. Evelyn felt anger towards him and towards herself for being so easily enthralled by his actions and for her inability to stay in control of these kinds of situations with Loki.

He didn't pull away from her as his gaze turned away from his thumb, damp with her tear, to her bleary eyes. "So frail," he mused softly. "The human spirit is so piteously breakable. A few words are all it takes to hurt you." Evelyn knew he was toying with her, trying to weaken her through the manipulation of her emotions.

His words were becoming personal and Evelyn didn't need him, a hardened, remorseless criminal, mocking her for being so pathetically alone and believing in idealism. She blinked back the rest of her tears. Before she could fully understand the violent impulse building in her chest, she struck Loki across the face, his handsome facing snapping to the left. The resonating slap of flesh hitting flesh lingered until a deathly silence permeated the room. He rigidly straightened his spine and turned his fiery gaze onto her.

He ran his tongue along his lips. "I told you once to never lay a hand on me," he growled.

"Get over yourself, you selfish git," she snapped, and immediately regretted it when he roughly grabbed her arm and twisted it painfully behind her back, forcing her against his strong chest. She inhaled sharply as an acute pain shot through the length of her arm.

"I would tread carefully, you impudent mortal," he hissed.

He twisted harder, pressing her closer to his chest. Evelyn gasped into the black leather of his outfit, as her bone screamed in protest. She took a deep inhale of his scent. It was distinct and clean, a scent that left her light-headed. Her arm stung painfully, diverting her thoughts. A little more pressure and there was not a single doubt in her mind that the bone would snap clean in half.

"You're going to break my arm," she bit out in barely a whisper. She was trapped against him, her cheek pressed to his chest. Of all the possible offensive moves she could make, none of them, however intricate, she surmised, shone brightly on the possibility of escaping without a severely broken arm.

When he did not relent, she felt fury build within her. "Let me go, Loki. Or so help me you will never see daylight as a free man again," she threatened.

After a few seconds wherein he likely deliberated the probability of her actually condemning him to eternity in a cell, he abruptly released his hold of her arm and stepped back. She fell forward, her hands flying to his chest to keep upright. She felt his muscles ripple beneath her touch. Gingerly, she pulled her hands away and stumbled backwards a few steps, shaking her head.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. She grabbed her bag from the ground and headed straight for the door, heart heavy with emotion. "I can't work with someone who doesn't want to be helped."

She glanced over her shoulder at Loki who stood rigidly where he had grabbed her arm. He did not move, but his emerald eyes were alive and burning with the flames of an unnamed passion. Without wasting another word on him, she threw open the door and slammed it behind her, resolved to never set foot in his cell or lay eyes on him again.

**Oh, dear. Has Evelyn had enough of Loki? Is she waving the proverbial white flag? **

**Leave a review if you like. I love reading your comments :)**

**Cheers!**


	6. Resignation

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews. Enjoy the latest :)**

6: Resignation

Evelyn walked into the extravagant banquet hall for dinner that night with determined resolve. She would be politely resigning. The situation had gotten out of hand with Loki earlier that day. To be made vulnerable at his mercy and then to lose complete control over her composure and physically striking him because he had cruelly played with her emotions… She shuddered at the thought of her behaviour. Never before had she behaved so appallingly. In all her professional career, she had never encountered a subject who could so easily rile her.

If there was one thing Evelyn respected, it was professionalism. She would not continue in this venture, not when she was could be so easily compromised by her emotions when Loki plucked at her heartstrings. She was not as exceptional as others made her out to be. She was not suitable for the job. Working with the demi-god had proven too demanding. She didn't deserve the case because she couldn't handle him or keep her recently unravelled emotions in check.

Conversation had been flowing easily at the dining table that evening between Odin, Frigga, Thor and the Warriors. Evelyn had been silent throughout, debating on what the proper moment might be for broaching the topic of her resignation. Fortunately, she hadn't needed to worry about interjecting because Thor soon called her out on her silence.

"You are awfully quiet this evening, Evie. You have not uttered a word. Is all well?" he inquired.

Evelyn carefully put down her utensils and sat up straighter in her seat. "Actually, no," she replied quietly. She now had the undivided attention of those present at the table.

"What is the matter, Evelyn?" Frigga asked with motherly concern. "You look troubled."

Evelyn nodded. "My session today with Loki was unusual. Let's just say, events unfolded and it became," she hesitated, "physical."

"Physical?" Frigga repeated, eyes widening in horror. "Did Loki hurt you, Evelyn?"

A blush graced her cheeks. She wasn't going to rat on Loki for nearly breaking her arm. If she resigned he'd be given enough trouble without people knowing of his aptitude for threatening to break the various bones in her body. "No. Not really. His usual snide comments became a bit personal today."

She thought of those cruel words and their haunting honesty that resounded deep within her heart. He had called a disillusioned, lonely romantic. As much as she hated to admit he was right, she knew that he was, and it hurt. Happy endings were a rarity, and true romance even scarcer. She was holding onto her heart, waiting to give it fully and with certainty to the man who completed her. Perhaps her romantic principles were too idealistic and believing in true love, a lie. But that wasn't what had really shaken her. Not really.

When Loki had looked at her with his wise green eyes and said that they were no different than each other, well, that had hit home. She could never be like him—would never be like him. But physically lashing out was so out of character for her. Frankly, she was frightened—frightened that being around him was making her harsh and cynical. Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but it alarmed her all the same.

"He hit a sensitive nerve, and," she paused, and with some difficult swallowed down the urge to stop talking before she made herself look foolish, "and I struck him. Across the cheek. He made me so angry. I know my behaviour is inexcusable and now I doubt my ability to handle Loki. He has tested my capabilities more than anyone before him, and I failed to maintain a professional level-headedness. That's why I would like to tell you all that I think it would be best for me to resign. I'm sure someone else could do far better with Loki than I," she finished with a heavy and ashamed sigh.

When all that followed was silence, Evelyn, embarrassed lowered her gaze.

A tender hand reached across the table, resting on her forearm in a comforting gesture. Evelyn looked up and saw the nurturing green eyes of the queen observing her face. "My dear, dear girl." Frigga cooed gently. "I can tell that these thoughts have been troubling you, but I have seen such positive change in Loki. For the past three weeks he has become less severe and troubled. You have lifted a heavy weight from his shoulders, Evelyn. Every word of himself, his past, his thoughts and emotions that he shares with you is one less weight for him to carry alone. I know this because he is my son and I have seen this change from day to day when I visit with him."

Thor nodded enthusiastically. "It is true, Evie. You have done well for him."

"And I'm sure that a slap in the face was well-deserved by Loki. We are all well-aware of the lethal edge to his silver tongue," Fandral added, smiling kindly at her.

The sound of Odin's voice commanded the attention of everyone at the table. It was rare that Odin spoke of Loki in informal conversation. Evelyn angled her gaze at him, intent on hearing what he had to say on the matter.

"My son's words may be hurtful, Miss McPherson, but you should not let them upset you. Loki can be a fool, as we all well know." Evelyn winced at the harsh and unfair words, but kept her silence. "He is not accustomed to trusting people as he has trusted you with private knowledge of himself throughout this past month. His cruel words are a way of distancing you. He is afraid of what you might turn him into."

Evelyn frowned. "I don't understand."

"What my husband is trying to say, Evelyn," Frigga spoke up, casting her wizened husband an understanding half-smile, "is that in time your efforts will make Loki a better man."

"I don't know," Evelyn protested quietly.

"Loki needs you, Miss McPherson. If you are concerned for your professionalism, understand that no one will hold your reaction against my son's words against you. We can all agree that he deserved it. Now, when you first arrived here you made me a promise that you would restore Loki to his proper place in Asgard once again. Am I going to be disappointed in you for breaking this promise to me and my family?" he asked, his clear blue eye scrutinizing her.

Odin's words left Evelyn at loss for her own. She felt ashamed but relieved all at once. Ashamed, because she had nearly disappointed Odin and broken her promise to him, but relieved to know that her professionalism would not be questioned by Odin, Frigga and Thor. For reasons she could not fully grasp, she did not want to disappoint the royal family of Asgard.

"No," Evelyn said. "You're right. I did make a promise, and I will see it through."

"Do not doubt your ability, Evie," Sif said soothingly from her left. "You are one of the brightest mortals I have ever encountered." Evelyn returned Sif's comforting smile.

Evelyn pondered over their words for a few moments. This was her chance to redeem herself. She had never fallen back on a consulting job before, and this time would be no different. Clearly she would have to cast her doubts aside and work exceptionally hard at keeping a level head around Loki. He would not be the cause of her failure. Her own thoughts and emotions were her adversaries and she would fight them until she saw this task through fair and properly.

"You're right. All of you." She turned to Odin somewhat bashfully. "If I could please withdraw my prior request for resignation, sir?" she asked.

"I yield it to you most enthusiastically," Odin said sagely, his eye sparkling with pleased acquiescence.

After Evelyn's minor breakdown, the remainder of dinner passed without err. Thor walked her to her bedroom that night and for the first time in the four weeks she had been in Asgard, Evelyn felt at ease with herself. The pair paused outside her bed chambers.

"I know that tomorrow is your day of rest, but I spoke with my father and mother and they both agree that you should have several days to rest and rejuvenate. It would be best for you to return to Loki when you have returned to the right mindset and are certain of yourself. What do you think?" Thor asked.

Evelyn couldn't help but be pleased by the idea of taking several days to herself. "That sounds enticing," she admitted.

"Then it is settled," Thor exclaimed, clearly satisfied with her decision. "I leave tomorrow for Midgard and I shall return in three days' time. You may recommence your visitations with Loki upon my return."

And so it was settled. Thor left soon after, pleading fatigue, and Evelyn pulled on a soft, lilac-coloured lace nightgown. She curled into the downy haven of her sheets and closed her eyes to sleep. However, try as she might she could not prevent herself from replaying the events of earlier that day. Her fingertips tingled in memory of the sensation of Loki's strong chest beneath her palms. It took longer than she liked to fall into sleep, and when she did, she dreamt of burning emerald.

OOOOO

Loki spent the day following his heated interaction with Evelyn sulking. With nothing to entertain him or distract him from his disconcerting and tireless thoughts, he lay upon his bed staring unblinkingly up at his lavish jail cell's ceiling, contemplating his wretched life. Aside from his mother and Thor, Loki had no other visitors. His father, Odin, was likely too disgusted by him to lay eyes on his irredeemable Jotun son.

Evelyn McPherson, who only visited him five days a week out of obligation, had been inarguably correct in her pronunciation that he was very much alone. Very few people cared for him and it was selfish of him to push them away. With a scowl, Loki rolled over onto his side, crossing his arms over his chest.

Today was Evelyn's day off which meant that he would be deprived of his daily dose of intelligent conversation. He was not, of course, implying that he missed her company or her annoying, prying questions. But whenever his mother came, she would always end up in tears, and Thor's visits consisted of him relaying the latest news of patrols, sparring results from training sessions, parties, and other senseless chatter that Loki had no inclination to listen to. Thor always did the talking in these instances and Loki was continually left direly wanting to rip his ebony hair from his head in half-agony, half-desperation. When Miss McPherson came for their sessions he at least had an opportunity to engage in a bout of verbal sparring with her. She kept his mind alight with rapid thoughts and challenged him in ways no one else dared to. She was foolish and below him, undoubtedly. But she kept him preoccupied none the less.

The obnoxious sound of great, lumbering footfalls sounded just beyond his door. With a roll of his eyes, Loki grudgingly sat up to greet his pompous brother. The enchanted door opened to reveal the tall, blond-haired demi-god. He was not sporting his usual jovial expression, but instead wore a scowl of disapproval. This intrigued Loki immensely.

"What ill has befallen you, brother? You look murderous today," Loki taunted, smirking carelessly.

Thor pursed his lips and crossed his large arms over his broad chest. The stance appeared unnatural, the blonde god's biceps seemingly too large to comfortably cross over his bulging chest. "You are disgraceful, brother," he spat venomously. "Evelyn may have fooled mother and father, but she has not fooled me. I know you must have hurt her yesterday. I have never seen her so quietly shaken before. What did you do to her?"

Loki gaped dumbly at his brother as his mind registered all that had been said by his older brother in a slur of a single breath. "I beg your pardon?" he rose from the bed, eyes level with Thor's.

"You heard me, Loki. What did you do to her?" he repeated, grinding his white teeth together impatiently.

"That mortal wench," he hissed defensively, "had the gall to strike me. Impudent woman. I was kind enough to warn her once before to never lay a hand on me, yet she stupidly refused to heed it. I merely gave her a minor fright as a means of chastising her unprofessional behaviour."

Thor shook his head. "What did you say to her?" he asked angrily. "I know that you instigated, as you so often do," Thor jibed at him. "Evelyn refused to share what you said and did to her with us. She is too kind to you and insists on defending you. You do not deserve such a woman as she," Thor said defiantly.

"I never asked for her, brother. You thrust her services upon me. Do not fault me for upsetting the girl, for you are the one who left her at receiving end of the whims of my silver tongue," Loki said back, a growl escaping his throat.

"Well, then," Thor breathed heavily as he regained some of his lost composure, "fortunately for you, you won't have to trouble your sharp tongue with her any longer."

Loki quirked a brow at that. "What do you mean?"

Thor levelled his brother with a stern look, one that was brimming with reproach and malice. "Evelyn resigned yesterday evening at dinner."

A multitude of thoughts rampaged Loki's mind as his brother spoke. "Resigned?" he bit out, his voice rasping. A tumult of powerful emotions sieged him all at once, but the most potent of them was a perturbing combination of disappointment and frustration.

"Yes. She said that your conversation took a personal turn, that she was badly affected by your words and regretted her actions—striking you. She admitted this all to Odin but neglected the specifics of what you said exactly." Thor explained. "She also told mother that you did not physically lay a hand on her. As I'm sure you well know, she is a terrible liar. Later that evening, when I walked her to her chambers, I saw the trace of fresh bruises slowly forming on her wrist. I know that she lied to protect you. You should know that it is because of your violence and cruel words against her that she is now unemployed."

Loki became angry. But it wasn't the typical 'angry-at-the-world' emotions he normally felt. This time he was angry with himself. He should have known not to push Evelyn so hard. He had threatened to break her spirit multiple times, but he had never intended to actually do so. She amused him, kept him preoccupied. He had frightened her off, ruined her self-image and now he would once again be lamentably alone. He cursed himself, which was a novel occurrence, and to counter its distastefulness, effectively cursed the world as well.

"I did not intend for her to resign," he said, his voice soft but venomous with pride.

Thor shrugged, shaking his head. "Perhaps now you will consider the consequences of your actions beforehand," he said self-righteously.

In a blind fit of rage, Loki punched his brother in the jaw with an impressive amount of force. Thor stumbled back several steps, rubbing his soon to be bruised jaw. His clear blue eyes widened in surprise. "Interesting," he muttered, realizing something rather enlightening about Loki's character.

"Do not patronize me, Thor!" he roared angrily. "Get out!"

The broad-shouldered god stood his ground for a moment. "I am leaving for several days to go to Midgard. I have business to attend to. Until then, well, you'll just have to sit tight until an alternate plan can be arrived at for your sentence."

Loki unclenched his fists and then clenched them again, his short nails puncturing the flesh of his palm and drawing crimson blood. He had no words. He only had anger.

"Goodbye, brother," Thor said and closed the door firmly behind him.

Loki, in turn, stared dismally at the door. He had never regretted his actions before, but suddenly he wished he could reverse the sands of time and take back the cruel words he had spoken against Miss McPherson. Damn that woman, he thought angrily, throwing his fist into the wall. What power did she have over him, to make him feel so ashamed of his behaviour?

Try as he might to rise above the inclination, Loki spent the rest of that day lamenting. Each time he closed his eyes she was staring straight back at him, her chocolate eyes sad with emotional injury and disappointment. What was worse was that he hated how those accusing brown eyes made him feel. He wasn't a man. He was a monster—a selfish creature who chased people who cared about him away with his lethal claws. He was a cruel beast destined to be forever alone.

OOOOO

Evelyn felt incredibly rejuvenated after four days of resting, well, relatively resting. She had gone for half hour jogs each day to release the tension and frustration that had been building up within her for the past week. Twice Sif had dragged her down to the training ring to work on her hand to hand combat skills. She was adequate, but Sif always overpowered her in a manner of minutes. However, the female warrior was adamant on improving her hand-eye coordination. Sif was tough on her but patient and after two sessions lasting several hours each, Evelyn was beginning to feel the satisfying burn that accompanies newly exercised and strengthening muscles.

Thor walked her to Loki's tower that day. Haward was on duty and smiled kindly at her. "Good to see you again, Miss McPherson," he said.

"Likewise," Evelyn said, a genuine smile on her face as she readjusted her stubborn glasses.

Thor lowered his voice as he spoke to her. "Loki will be surprised to see you, Evelyn."

Evelyn frowned at him in confusion. "Why would he be surprised? I thought you told him I'd return in four days?"

Thor looked at her somewhat abashedly. "I might have twisted the truth somewhat." Evelyn gave him a scornful look. "But it was a necessary adjustment of the truth. I meant to instill a valuable lesson on Loki."

Evelyn crossed her arms, a disapproving frown gracing her small lips. "Which would be?"

"That he should keep his sharp tongue in check?" Thor asked, uncertain as she glared at him. "That he should think before he speaks?" Still Evelyn frowned. Thor bit his lip, humbled.

She shook her head. "Don't interfere in my job, got it Odinson?" she snapped teasingly.

Thor nodded and patted her shoulder before leaving her. With her shoulders back and chin tilted upwards, Evelyn confidently pulled open the cell door and strode into the all-too-familiar room. Loki was laying on his back staring at his ceiling. He looked angry—no surprise there.

"What is it, mother? Haven't you scolded me enough about upsetting Miss McPherson?" he asked indignantly.

Evelyn quirked an appreciative eyebrow at that. She always knew there was a reason she was so fond of Frigga. The beautiful, nurturing queen of Asgard was like a mother to her, always inquiring after her wellbeing and cooing over her in the manner that all doting mothers do.

"I always knew I liked your mother," Evelyn said softly.

Loki shot up in his bed at the sound of her voice, his eyes wide with surprise. He looked embarrassed, but quickly covered up the emotion by raising a frown on his handsome, brooding face.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded harshly, but quickly cleared his throat, before continuing in a more even tone. "Come to mock me and uncanny aptitude to distance myself from everyone around me?"

Evelyn gave him a reproachful look. "Of course not," she chastised.

"Shouldn't you be back on Midgard by now? I thought Thor would have taken you with him," he said, his emerald eyes settling inquisitively on her face. Evelyn found that she had missed those penetrating eyes. There was a profound sadness quietly existing behind those remarkable eyes, a silent, misunderstood sadness that always left her with an ache in her heart.

"No. I came to talk to you." She motioned towards the wingback chair where she usually sat during their meetings. "May I?"

Still frowning, Loki nodded and rose as well. He strode across the room until he stood behind his own respective seat, hands resting on the head rest. "I thought you had resigned? Thor informed me of your decision the morning after," Loki said cautiously.

"He told you that I resigned?" Evelyn asked. She thought back to Thor's earlier words about twisting the truth and how Loki would be surprised. It was a childish trick to play and she had a mind to publicly scold him for his silly lie.

"Didn't you?" Loki's eyes stared deeply into hers, searching for the answer he hoped he'd find there. Evelyn could see a dim flicker of hope. But as to whether the hope was that she _had_ resigned or _had not_ resigned, she could not be sure.

"Not exactly. Well, I suppose initially, yes." She frowned at her jumbled thoughts. She desperately wished his eyes didn't have such an incapacitating effect on her. "I did resign, but then I was subjected to your father's disappointment—I'm sure you know well enough how that feels—and I retracted my resignation." Loki nodded sympathetically at the mention of his father's disappointment, a snide smirk making its way to his face. "In any case, Thor was likely trying to ruffle your feathers. He was convinced that you had hurt me with more than words," she speculated.

He frowned and his eyes travelled down her arm, resting on her bruised wrist. The injury was a mottled combination of purples, blacks and yellows. Evelyn followed his gaze and quickly tugged down the sleeve of her shirt, concealing it from his view. Something about seeing the injury he had inflicted on her upset him.

"I did not realize…" he began gravely.

Evelyn waved a hand, cutting him off. "Let's not linger on the past, hm? How about we make a pact to keep our hands off of each other from now on?" she asked, then blushed profusely when Loki raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Not like that," she said quickly, and Loki pursed his lips tauntingly. "I don't mean…you know what I mean," she mumbled, righting her large glasses and averting her gaze to the floor.

Loki nodded, stepping around the wingback chair and sitting across from her. "May I ask, then, where you have been these past four days, Miss McPherson?" He languidly stretched out his long legs.

"Taking a vacation. A well-deserved one, might I add," she stated, then grinned. "So did you miss me?"

Loki chortled and then grimaced disdainfully. "You want to know if I missed your agonizing questions, your vulgar speech, your strange eye shields, your incessant prying and exasperating presence?"

Evelyn frowned, her light-hearted grin fading quickly from her face. "I didn't realize just how much you hated me," she pondered sadly, adjusting her glasses. Loki's perceptive senses detected her sadness which she tried to conceal from him to save face.

Loki clenched his fists on his lap and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That was cruel. I did not intend…" he paused and opened his eyes, emerald focusing intently on brown. "I do not hate you, Miss McPherson. In fact, I strangely missed our sessions of verbal sparring."

Evelyn smiled. "So did I. Mind you, after last time, well, I think the sparring should be kept to a minimum."

Loki ground his teeth together, disappointed. He was not at all pleased with this change of dynamic. The events from four days ago would haunt their sessions forevermore now that Evelyn was, as a result, asserting a new distance between them.

He spoke before he could consider his words. "I am sorry."

The criminologist's small mouth popped open, her brown eyes widening in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

Loki swallowed harshly, unclenching his palms, but never allowing his gaze to stray from her face. "Are you hard of hearing?" he snapped bitterly.

"I do believe you just apologized to me," Evelyn spoke cautiously.

A scowl lit Loki's face. "Is it so uncommon for one to apologize to you, Miss McPherson?"

"It is when that person is you. That's the first time in over a month that you have ever apologized to me."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I suppose you will label this apology as progress?"

Evelyn grinned at him in reply. She eagerly pulled out her pen to mark down the significant highlights of their conversation.

While her gaze was occupied by the page of notes, Loki permitted a small smirk of approval to grace his lips as he watched her excitedly scribble down her ideas in her well-worn notepad. When she glanced back up at him to continue their session, he was frowning arrogantly at her and nothing had changed.

Only it had.

**Sooo…**

**I don't really know how I feel about this chapter. I want the development of their relationship to be drawn out. Do you guys think it's progressing too quickly? Leave a review if you're so inclined to do so and let me know what you think!**

**Ta!**


	7. Night is for the Vulnerable

7: Night is for the Vulnerable

A month passed after Evelyn's near-resignation and it was now the first week of her third month on Asgard. Loki had not been violent or overly cruel to her in terms of words spoken, and they had both kept a reasonable physical distance between themselves to prevent any repeats of past physically aggressive experiences. Despite opening up about his brother and his family in general, he had continued to be easily aggravated and was mostly offhand with her. The setbacks she encountered of him closing off his emotions to her and refusing to answer the vast majority of her questions greatly outweighed the small successes that she had claimed.

Three months and Loki was treating her with the bare minimum of civility. They had not had any more 'close encounters'. Loki would always be standing by his window waiting for to arrive for their two hour sessions. She would knock once, enter and sit in her wingback chair. While she unpacked the contents of her messenger bag, he would quietly move to his respective chair, settling in the plush seat, long legs extended, posture rigid against the chair's back, and emerald eyes intent on her movements.

Something had changed between them. Most obviously was Loki's conscious reigning in of his sharp and hurtful wit. But aside from that, the palpable energy between them had also changed. The defensive tension between them had faded, but a new one had taken its place. She could not, however, identify it. She had become very aware of Loki's habit of watching her. Not a disturbing, voyeuristic variety of watching, but an intent learning of another's mannerisms. He paid attention to her, unlike he had ever done before. It unsettled her because she did not know _why _he did it_._

It was Evelyn's day off and Thor had been on Earth for the past week. She had contented herself with physical exercise and combat training with Sif during her spare time. Otherwise she would explore Odin's vast library, searching through its vast contents for the sparse collections that were in English. The majority of the castle library's books were in an ancient Asgardian dialect that she could not even begin to comprehend.

Dinner had been a simple affair. Sif had taken her down to the market and brought her to a stall selling Asgardian wares and delicacies. The food was unfamiliar and unlike anything she had ever tasted. The spices were aromatic, the rich flavours pungent, warming her body. Sif had walked her back to the palace afterwards and Evelyn had decided to have an early night's rest.

She had adorned a sleeveless white nightgown that fell to her ankles. It was semi-transparent in the moonlight and softly drifted down her body like a silken waterfall. Tossing and turning fitfully for several hours, it became evident to Evelyn by ten o'clock that evening that she would not be getting any sleep. She quietly slid out from the warmth of her sheets and slipped on a pair of slippers. Normally going for a walk would calm her and help sleep claim her more easily.

Ten minutes later she found herself in the communication lab, firing up the inter-realm transmitter. She desperately wanted to talk to someone, to have someone share in her misery of being unable to sleep. She waited several minutes for the S.H.I.E.L.D. receiver to obtain and send the alarm out signalling a possible communication opportunity.

She was about to shut the machine when a groggy voice reached her ears. "What in the hell is so desperately important that you had to wake me up at the ungodly hour of three in the morning?" The disgruntled face of a sleepy Natasha Romanoff appeared on the screen.

Evelyn flushed, embarrassed. "Sorry to wake you. It's only about ten-thirty over here."

Natasha rolled her eyes, trying and failing to pat down her unruly, short red hair. "Are you injured?" she asked with a frown.

Evelyn shook her head. "No."

"Dying?"

"No."

"Under siege?"

"Um, no."

"Pregnant?"

Evelyn's eyes widened. "No! Of course not!"

"Good. Because if Loki had gotten you knocked up, well, I honestly don't know how I'd feel about that," Natasha mused, a teasing sparkle in her eye.

"I'm not attracted to him. I don't think of him that way," Evelyn said sternly.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You're so oblivious, McPherson. Loki is a tall, dark, handsome, bad-boy god. How can you not be at least innocently attracted to him?"

Evelyn was turning redder with every word Natasha articulated. "That would be extremely unprofessional, not to mention a conflict of interest," she affirmed.

"You told me once that he fascinated you," Natasha accused.

"Well, yes, but not in romantic sense. I merely meant as him being a subject of study," Evelyn said oversensitively.

"At least admit he's handsome," Natasha persisted.

Relenting, she said, "I suppose he has a roguish appeal to him." Evelyn paused, considering the handsome god who had more than once left her overwhelmed by his presence alone. She disliked the direction the conversation was headed. "Look, I don't want to talk about him. Nothing's changed. He's still distant and snide and arrogant. Yes, he's handsome. No, I don't want to jump his bones. End of discussion."

Natasha gave her an unconvinced, but amused look. "Jump his bones?"

Evelyn blushed. "Coloquialism."

Natasha nodded. "I know. It's just strange hearing it come from you. So, was there a reason you wanted to talk to me then?"

Evelyn shrugged. "I couldn't sleep and thought it would only be right to have someone else share in my misery."

"Well, I'm honoured," Agent Romanoff said sarcastically.

"Actually, I just wanted to know if you had checked up on my Gramps lately? I miss him more and more with each passing day," Evelyn sighed. "I hate not being able to communicate with him. He must be so lonely."

Natasha's green eyes softened. "I haven't, not lately. But I'll give him a call and see how he's doing for you."

"Tell him I'm doing fine, and that I miss him terribly," she added quietly.

Evelyn's grandfather was her only living relative, and as a result, she worried constantly over his wellbeing. As he aged, she had tried to convince him to move into a residence, but he was stubborn and had a reasonable fear of losing his dependence. S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters had relocated to New York, but her Gramps was in a whole other country altogether. He lived in Canada, in Montreal to be exact. She rarely got to see him, but she called him often to check up on him. It had always upset her that she was obliged by contract to keep her occupation confidential. He knew she was a criminologist. She had grown up and gotten her degree in Montreal, but her recent taking up with S.H.I.E.L.D., in particular her mission to Asgard was not something she was at liberty to share.

Rationally, she knew it was for the best if she wanted him to be safe from harm, but emotionally, secrets, especially substantial ones like the fact that despite telling her Gramps that she'd be in a small, underdeveloped African country to a profile crimes pertaining to culture, she was actually on a whole other planet, wore heavy on her heart and conscience.

A few minutes later she said her goodbyes to an extremely fatigued looking Natasha and powered down the machine. Her thoughts were now sufficiently occupied by her Gramps. Worry lines etched her pale face as she wandered aimlessly down the dim, candle-lit corridors. She was much like a ghostly spectre, drifting down the halls, flesh and nightdress translucent white, dark eyes wide and distant.

She wasn't sure quite sure how long she wandered, but the sound of heavy footfalls sounding in the nearby distance awoke her from her dreamlike state. Thor had warned her multiple times to not walk alone at night. He had explicitly told her that only trouble lurks at night, preying on the vulnerable. Evelyn was not weak, for a mortal, but if put up against a powerful god, she likely did not stand a chance. Praying for a quick escape, she carefully surveyed her dimly lit and ominous surroundings. Immediately she knew where she was. She walked this way every day before and following her visits with Loki. The staircase leading to his tower was a dozen or so feet away.

This wing of the castle was barely used, and Evelyn had a suspicion that whoever was lurking around in the middle of the night was up to no good. It wouldn't be in her favour to be seen by whoever was at work. Unless they were purposely following her…

She had to make a quick decision—either face whatever possible dangers were awaiting her around the corner, or pray that Loki would be chivalrous enough to indulge her for an hour or so, just long enough for the possible threat to pass. Panicking slightly as the footfalls, now clearly decipherable as a large male's, echoed louder and closer, she made a swift dash for the stairs. She lost both of her slippers on the way up, but she did not stop running until she reached the top.

The young guard, not Haward, was on duty that night, which did not reassure Evelyn in the least. Had Haward been there, she would have asked for his help, but the younger guard—he rubbed her all wrong. He gave her a deliberately slow once over, his small dark eyes thoroughly scanning her apparel. His eyes were judging and Evelyn did not want to linger under his scrutinizing gaze any longer than she had to. He gave her a lewd look when she lowered her head and scurried to Loki's door and quickly opened it, shutting it just as quickly behind her.

A high-pitched squeal fled her lips when two cold hands wrapped with lethal force around the column of her throat, shoving her roughly against the wall. Evelyn blinked several times in the darkness, trying desperately to claw the icy hands away. "Loki," she rasped.

The firm body pressed against hers stilled, the strangling hold around her neck slackening. Abruptly the hands fell away, and the cool body moved several inches back. "I thought you were an intruder," Loki said, his voice rough with the grogginess of sleep. Evidently, he was a light sleeper.

Evelyn rubbed her neck where his cool fingers had previously been. "I suppose in a way that I am, arriving here announced and at an unreasonable hour." A thought occurred to her. "What time is it anyway?"

Loki stepped away from her, his form obscured in the darkness. "It is past midnight."

"Oh," she sighed, rubbing her tired eyes.

Loki's figure was outlined in the pale, misty blue light of the moon. His face was cast into darkness. Deftly, he began to manoeuvre about the room. Not once did he bump into furniture as he went about lighting several candles. The flickering flames lit the room, casting a dim, flickering yellow hue throughout the room. Loki turned back to her and she was able to see him clearly. His long, black hair was tousled, not slick and managed as usual. He was shoeless and wore black lounge pants and an emerald tunic tied loosely about his narrow waist. When Evelyn finally looked into his eyes, she realized that he too was observing her apparel, how the weightless nightgown slid down her body, the soft, dipping curves of her womanly waist and hips evident through the thin material.

The moonlight sought her out in the dimness, making the delicate white nightgown glow with ethereal quality. She may very well have been a haunting apparition. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her bare feet in discomfort. Loki's emerald eyes met hers. He was frowning.

"What are you doing here?"

Evelyn wiggled her ice-cold toes, trying to warm up the frigid appendages. "I couldn't sleep, so I went for a stroll."

Loki's frown deepened, his dark brows knitting together. "Alone and in the middle of the night? That was unwise of you," he said, his voice darkening with an emotion that Evelyn could not determine. "You put yourself in a vulnerable position. It would be too easy for one of ill-intention to harm you. What were you thinking?" he demanded harshly..

Evelyn was taken aback by his anger towards her behaviour. Their relationship was civil, but they were far from companions in the truest sense of the word. Was it possible that Loki could be concerned for her wellbeing? The criminologist quickly tossed the thoughts out from her mind.

"I didn't want to wake you tonight. It's just," Evelyn paused, biting her lips uncertainly. "I thought I was being followed."

Loki's dark eyes narrowed. "By who?" he asked, carefully approaching her.

"I don't really know, maybe nobody, but I just panicked. I was nearer to you than the safety of my own room. I felt that I would be safest here for a while," she admitted.

Loki's stern face slowly lost its severe frown lines. His pale skin smoothed out, nearly translucent in the ghostly moonlight. "You thought that you'd be safe with me." It wasn't a question so much as a statement. "That is remarkably foolish of you," he mused, eyes distantly looking past her shoulder. A brief silence passed between them and he took one more deliberate stride towards her, closing the space between them. Evelyn had to tilt her chin upwards in order to meet his unreadable emerald gaze. This was the closest they had been in a month. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. "You forget, Miss McPherson, that I am a murderer, a remorseless killer."

Evelyn shook her head. "You're not remorseless. You may not have admitted it to me yet, but I can see it plainly written for all to see by the tortured expression that you wear when you think I'm not looking. Your heart is heavy with regret."

Loki leaned his face towards her, so close that when he next spoke, his cool breath brushed against her small lips. "You are mistaken."

Evelyn shook her head, brown eyes never straying from the menacing god before her. "And you're in denial. You won't admit that you feel remorse, and reveal that you have a heart, because then you wouldn't be the villain any longer, and the only role you know how to play is that of the villain. But you're so much more than that, Loki. You need to let go of who you were nearly a year ago, because he's not the only version of yourself. You're a brother, a son, a friend, an intellect; there's always a better version of yourself," Evelyn said softly.

Loki's face contorted with pain as he began to draw away from her. Without considering her actions beforehand, she gently clasped his haggard face between her two warm hands, preventing him from pulling away. Loki stiffened, his eyes returning to her, as his lips parted in an expression of shock. "You can be a better man."

The two companions did not move for a few seconds, but then Loki blinked and abruptly pulled away from her. "Your romantic ideals delude you," he said nastily, turning away from her.

Evelyn felt anger mount in her chest. "And your arrogance and self-loathing prevent you from realizing the truth and being honest with both yourself and me."

The towering god stood with his back to her, staring out the small window and at the blue moon that cast the magnificent city of Asgard into a dreamlike mist. "You're freezing," he said.

Evelyn frowned at his arbitrary statement. "I'm fine." In fact, she wasn't fine, but completely numb from cold. The nightgown, thin as it was, hardly provided her with any substantial warmth, not to mention she was barefoot. The cell itself was ice-cold as no fire had been lit in the hearth. Evelyn wondered how Loki could tolerate the sub-zero temperature. But then she recalled that he was half Jotun and was likely immune to the cold.

Loki turned from the window and pulled a throw blanket from the foot of his bed. "Your teeth are chattering, and you're shivering." He stepped towards her and handed her the soft, blanket. She gratefully took it and wrapped it about her shoulders.

"Thank you. I should be going, though," she said softly, adjusting her large glasses. She turned to leave but Loki's voice, low with authority, halted her in her steps.

"You won't be going anywhere tonight, Miss McPherson," Loki said. Evelyn turned back around to find him watching her intently, hands clasped behind his back. The darkness that had gathered along the planes of his face made it impossible for her to read his emotions.

"Excuse me?" she managed unevenly.

Loki stepped closer to her and into the moonlight, the corner of his lip quirked mockingly. "If someone followed you this evening, they may still be lurking outside in wait for you. In any case, my family would be scandalized to know that I had permitted you to leave, unaccompanied." Evelyn shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Are you regretting your decision yet to come to me for help?" he taunted.

Evelyn straightened her posture and pulled the blanket tighter around her small shoulders. "No."

"The fear in your eyes would suggest otherwise," he whispered slowly.

"You won't hurt me. I'm not afraid of you," she asserted.

Loki stared at her keenly for a few moments before turning his back to her and walking to his bedside. As he did, Evelyn was overwhelmed by exhaustion and stumbled to her armchair where curled up, wrapping the blanket securely around her body and tucking in the extra folds to prevent any cold air from penetrating its cocoon of meagre warmth. She did not bother to glance at Loki or bid him goodnight, nor did she remember to remove her glasses, as her weary body instantly relaxed into the cushions of the chair and sleep claimed her.

OOOOO

Evelyn had almost immediately fallen asleep. By the time Loki had turned around from unmaking his quilt and sheets, she was fast asleep in the wingback, her head drooping forward, chin resting on her collar at an angle he was quite certain would be the source of muscular aching come the morning. He scowled. He had intended to act the role of a gentleman and gallantly offer his bed to her, but clearly she was content to sleep anywhere. All the better for him. Why should he lose sleep because of her foolishness? Without further delay, Loki pulled off his tunic and slipped under the covers of his duvet.

He was angry with her for being idiotic enough to wander the castle at night and alone. Anyone with common sense should know not to do such a thing. That fact that her being in possible danger bothered him to the extent it did was another source of anger on his behalf. He refused to be concerned for a mortal's wellbeing, especially one who believed in a grand illusion that she could make him into a "better man".

Evelyn frustrated him to no end. Her refusal to fear him, and her persistence when trying to make him an honest man—it drove him mad. Her words were like an angel's tongue—forgiving and compassionate. Her promises were too good for the likes of men like him. He could never be delivered from the crimes he had committed, and he wasn't even convinced that he wanted to be. Evelyn had said he was playing the part of the villain because it was the only one he knew, but not the only role available to him. Those words were promising, they haunted him.

Much to his chagrin, Evelyn's ideas were impossibly logical, albeit idealistic at times. She had planted a seed of doubt in his mind, and now he found himself questioning the man he was—the man he could one day be.

The sound of chattering teeth aroused him from his troubling thoughts. He rolled over onto his side, his eyes searching out Evelyn's form in the dim room. Lo and behold, the blanket he'd provided her with had fallen from her petite form. She was tossing from side to side now, clearly unsettled in her state of sleep. He would never sleep with the awful sound of her incessant chattering and noisy tossing. With a groan of frustration, he threw back his sheets and rose with the intention of replacing the blanket on her. He was a few feet away from her when her body abruptly slumped forward in the chair, pitching her headfirst towards the wooden coffee table in front of her.

Loki's mind worked quicker than his actions. He could see her brown-haired head smacking the edge of the table, the pale flesh of her forehead slicing open and spewing blood from impact. The mental visual of the scene was sufficient to spur him into action. With godly speed he dived for her tumbling form, nimbly catching her light body and sweeping her up into his arms, against his solid chest.

He blinked, standing beside the table, Evelyn in his arms. His heart was beating at an erratic pace—something very unusual for him. It was rare that anything or anyone could shatter the reserved calmness he normally comported himself with. He took a shuddering breath. What was wrong with him? He wasn't accustomed to saving damsels, if saving the mortal woman from a possible concussion could be considered a form of 'saving'. It was not in his repertoire.

Uncomfortable with this development, Loki shifted her in his arms, suddenly very much aware of the feeling her soft curves pressed into his hard body. He swiftly carried her to his bed, her head turning towards him as she pressed the freezing tip of her nose against the cold flesh of his shoulder. One of her hands rested gently on his chest, the warmth of her palm radiating through his icy flesh.

With a gentleness that Loki had not known himself to be capable of, he lowered Evelyn onto his downy bed. The thin sleeve of her gown slipped exposing her bare, snow-white shoulder and a small sliver of the side of her fleshy breast. He averted his gaze and gingerly righted the garment before covering her with the layers of his emerald duvet and sheets. He looked disdainfully at the eye shields—glasses, as she called them—that were askew on her face. Pulling them from where they sat crookedly atop her nose, he placed them beside the bed on the nightstand.

She sighed contentedly and rolled onto her side facing him. Her eyelids fluttered and sleepily opened, peering blearily up at him. Her chocolate-brown eyes were hazed over with a dreamlike quality and he was fairly certain that she was still dreaming.

"You have beautiful eyes," she breathed softly.

Loki stiffened and frowned down at her, unsure of how to react.

"Like the finest malachite," she said, closing her eyes as she was once again immersed in sleep.

Her words unsettled him. He knew she was dreaming. But she had spoken those words with such fascinated awe, that it had left him reeling with confusion. Her small pink lips parted as she sighed softly in her sleep, nestling further into the comfort of his bed. He found himself watching those small lips and contemplating them. They looked warm and sweet. An overwhelming desire to touch them and experience their softness overcame him. The foreign, sentimental thought caused him to stumble several feet back, away from the apparition in his bed. He ran a shaking hand over his weary face.

"What sorcery is this?" he said, turning to look at Evelyn once he was a safe distance across the room. He was behaving like some poor bewitched wretch. She was _mortal_, he reminded himself bitterly. Two months ago he had been repulsed by the thought of being in close quarters with a mortal, and yet here he was now, allowing her to challenge his perception of himself and the world; saving her in her sleep; and tucking her into his bed. _His _bed. Since when did he share with anyone? Since when did he feel concern? Loki's expression hardened as he steeled himself against the impending softness that was threatening to ruin his emotionally removed character.

He wasn't concerned for her.

He was exhausted, and he hadn't had a woman in well over a year.

He was not going soft like his embarrassing oaf of a brother.

And he most certainly did not _care_ about a mortal woman.

This night had seen him vulnerable, but no more. With the rising of the sun came the rising of a new day. His vulgar actions and thoughts would flee along with the passing of night into day. No one would know of how the events of this very night had sent his carefully constructed world off kilter. He would overcome this momentary weakness. She would not have power over him any longer.

**Thank you for the reviews you lovely readers! I appreciate the reassurance I received from many of you concerning the pace. Your thoughts mean a lot to me. I'll try to update by Friday!**

**Ta!**


	8. To Goad a Prince

8: To Goad a Prince

Evelyn hummed appreciatively as she woke the next morning, feeling warm and surprisingly well-rested. She stretched her limbs, eyes slowly opening to reveal her sunlit room.

Only it wasn't her room.

The plush bed was dressed in rich emeralds and silvers. Frantic, she sat upright and searched for her glasses, quickly locating them on the nearby night stand. She shoved them ungracefully onto her face and blinked the hazy sleep from her eyes.

She recognized the room instantly, despite having never experienced it from the perspective that she was beholding it at that moment. Somehow she had fallen asleep in Loki's bed. Her heart began to pound loudly in her chest as she racked her mind in a desperate attempt to remember how she had gotten there, but the last she remembered was falling asleep in the wingback chair. She threw back the quilt and found that she was still dressed in her nightgown.

When she looked up in search for Loki, she found him sound asleep at his writing desk. His tall, lean form was slumped over, his left cheek resting on his forearms so that he faced her. The position altogether looked rather uncomfortable from her perspective, and he would likely have neck cramps as a result.

Evelyn sat on his bed, watching him for a moment. He looked so humane in his sleep, and at peace. His face was free of stress lines, anger lines, or frown lines. To see him so relaxed and unaware was disconcerting. Being accustomed to a constantly vigilant Loki left her disbelieving of this vulnerable side of him.

Evelyn, with her mind still groggy from sleep, was rather quickly putting two and two together. She was quite certain she had fallen asleep on her chair the night before, which meant that Loki must have tucked her into his bed. The gesture was suggestive of compassion and empathy, both of which were qualities she had yet to see Loki exhibit. Despite being proud of him for looking to his humanity and chivalrously offering up his bed to her, she wasn't quite sure how she felt knowing he had taken her in his arms and put her to bed all the while with herself being unaware of his actions. A bright flush painted her porcelain cheeks at the thought.

As silently as she could manage, she slid out from beneath the pleasant warmth of the sheets, pressing her bare feet to the frosty stone ground. Rising from the bed, its frame groaned beneath her. Evelyn winced as Loki huffed and shifted the position of his head where it rested on his arms. A glance out the window revealed it to be not long past dawn. If she made haste she could reach her room before anyone might see her her barefoot and in her nightgown. Not that she cared what people on Asgard thought of her, but she was not in the mood to entertain incessant and prying questions that would certainly be flung at her by those who knew her well enough.

Not daring to linger in Loki's room longer than was necessary, Evelyn wrapped the blanket that Loki had offered her the night before about her shoulders and slipped from the room, casting one last, lingering look at the slumbering Loki.

Just beyond the door to Loki's cell stood Haward's younger replacement, patrolling the tower. His beady eyes followed her with accusation. Evelyn knew exactly what was going on behind his scrutinizing black eyes. She paused only a moment to meet his cruel gaze before hurrying past.

"Strumpet," he muttered maliciously.

Evelyn's shoulders stiffened, bristling at the crude denunciation, but she said nothing in reply. She knew better than to challenge him. A verbal sparring match would certainly see her as the easy victor, but she wasn't about to test the probable outcomes of engaging in a fist-fight with the boorish young man, especially not barefoot and dressed in a nearly sheer nightgown. Without delaying another second, she scurried down the stairs, retrieving her abandoned slippers from the previous night along the way.

The journey back to the safety of her bedroom was relatively effortless. Twice she had to dodge behind a set of curtains and then a statue in an attempt to avoid running into absolute strangers. Aside from those minor hiccups, Evelyn reached her destination with rapid ease.

Another two hours passed before Evelyn went off to have breakfast. Thor was still on Earth, but he would be returning for the evening to participate in Asgard's Festival of Lights. Fandral, who sat beside her at breakfast that morning was all too eager to tell her all about it.

"It is a show of lights courtesy of the different artists in Asgard. They use candles, fires, and sorcery. There is so much to see at once that it is impossible to see it all. Picture vibrant explosions of light in any colour you can imagine, in different shapes and sizes. Can you imagine it?" he asked, taking a bite of his eggs.

Indeed, Evelyn could. Growing up with her parents and then her Gramps, it had been a family tradition to drive out to the local park to view her hometown's monthly fireworks show. She had loved those fireworks as a child. They had been magical and beautiful all at once.

"It sounds beautiful," she said softly, eyes misty with reminiscence.

"Will you be joining us then, Evelyn?" Freya asked from where she sat beside Odin. She had been quietly watching their interaction with careful attention.

Nodding happily, she said, "Yes, absolutely."

"Marvelous!" exclaimed Fandral, gracefully scooping up her hand and placing a lingering kiss on her soft skin. His kiss lingered as he looked up into her eyes, a mischievous smirk on her lips that sent a blush flooding across her pale cheeks. "I am so very pleased, Miss McPherson. Shall I fetch you after your session with Loki?"

Evelyn agreed enthusiastically. She was becoming more and more fascinated by Asgardian culture, and tonight's Festival of Lights promised to be a firework show she would not want to miss. "I would love that, Fandral."

"You shall join us in the market for dinner. The vendors will be mixing up their most exquisite foodstuffs for the evening," Volstagg said contentedly, his eyes glazing over wantonly at the mention of these succulent 'foodstuffs'.

"The festivities continue tomorrow as well," Frigga interjected, smiling at Volstagg with amusement. "The day's schedule will be filled with festivities, stage productions, entertainment, dancing. It's great fun, Evelyn."

"It does sound wonderful," she agreed. "But I have a session with Loki tomorrow afternoon, so I won't be able to attend it all," she said regretfully.

"Nonsense!" Frigga cried in adamant protest. She turned her bright eyes to her husband who had not spoken during breakfast but rather seemed content to listen to what was being exchanged among those present. "Odin, my dear, surely you can make an exception just this once. I know Evelyn will love the festival, do let her reschedule her meeting with Loki tomorrow," she pleaded, well, more like demanded. And knowing Frigga, Evelyn was quite certain she always got her way when it came to her doting husband.

Odin looked fondly upon his wife, his stern features softening. "Of course."

Evelyn thanked Odin profusely and left soon after to go for her daily jog. When it was nearly three o'clock, Evelyn headed over to the tower. She was pleased to see Haward on duty instead of the younger guard from earlier that morning. Suddenly self-conscious, she hoped that Haward had not been informed of her overnight stay with Loki.

"Afternoon, Miss McPherson," he said, nodding at her.

"Hello, Haward."

Evelyn shifted nervously for a moment. "The younger guard who rotates duties with you, what is his name?"

Haward frowned. "Treasach. Why? Has he done something?" he asked suspiciously.

Evelyn quickly shook her head, relieved that Haward clearly knew nothing of her stay with Loki. "No, no. I was just curious. I never knew his name."

"Very well," Haward said, but his tone was still laced with some traces of doubt.

Without delaying the inevitable any further, Evelyn stepped up to the door. Saying a quick prayer that Loki would not bring up last night's events , and straightening her glasses, Evelyn stepped inside the cool room. Her eyes sought out the familiar form of the god of mischief, her palms sweaty with nerves. The past evening's events were entirely innocent and nothing had come of it. She wished he would leave it at that and not broach it.

The god in question sat at his desk, elbows on the table, and palms pressed together, his index fingers pressed to his lips in a thoughtful expression as his emerald eyes stared severely into the flames in the hearth. He did not look up to acknowledge her as she carefully entered the room, placing her bag down and seating herself as per the usual.

When the silence continued uninterrupted, Evelyn decided that thanking him for his hospitality would be the polite thing to do, and then no more needed to be said of the evening. "Thank you, for letting me stay here last night. It was very thoughtful of you," she said shortly, hoping her brisk tone had indicated her desire to leave it at that.

Loki's eyes slowly shifted away from the flaming red tongues of fire, to rest on her, immobilizing her in her seat with their coldness. Evelyn knew then that he wouldn't let it be. "I didn't have much of a choice, now did I?" he replied snidely.

Evelyn bristled slightly. "There's always a choice."

The god rolled his eyes. "Please, spare me another one of your righteous lectures," he sneered.

Running her tongue along the back of teeth, Evelyn resisted the urge to snap at him. More calmly, she said, "It wasn't necessary for you to move me to your bed last night. I would have been just fine without your interfering."

A harsh laugh escaped Loki's lips. "Like I said, I didn't have a choice. The unpleasant racket of your chattering teeth would have kept me up all night. Sometimes a sacrifice must be made. Last night I had to sacrifice the comfort of my bed for the sake of a few measly hours of sleep."

Evelyn felt herself turn red. Of course his actions had been selfish, and foolishly she had convinced herself that he had been gallant and willingly offered his bed to her. She, of course, would not know for some time that Loki's initial intention had been to offer her his bed because he had _chosen_ to do so.

Quiet tension permeated the room for several long drawn out moments. Evelyn was frustrated that she hadn't actually made any progress last night. Perhaps her hopes for him were too high.

"How about we talk about something neutral today," she suggested.

Loki made no reply as he scowled at the fire.

"I think a civil conversation completely unrelated to your rehabilitation would be a good idea. Let's avoid sensitive topics. Any ideas?" she asked.

Still, he stared with quiet rage into the burning hearth, refusing to acknowledge her.

Evelyn had no idea what had brought about this drastic change in demeanour. After three months and a week, and ergo over half of the length of her contract now spent, he had finally begun to be civil to her, but now he had abruptly reverted to his old ways by ignoring her and being unresponsive. It was as if every single step forward she took with him, they stumbled back another two.

With a huff of annoyance, Evelyn said, "I'm sure you find Midgardian literature vulgar and lacklustre, if you've ever bothered to debase your character by reading it." Her tone was irritable and curt. She simply could not tolerate the silence any longer. It was no question that Loki found everything about Midgard distasteful. Literature was something that impassioned her and, embittered by his senseless anger towards her that morning, she was determined to rile him up for a change. Call it playing devil's advocate, but her patience with him had worn thin.

Loki raised one dark brow, his eyes carefully training on her tensed shoulders. Another moment of silent passed during which no words were spoken, nor gazes met. "On the contrary, Miss McPherson. I find some Midgardian literature, ironically enough, quite rich. In fact, I would even go so far as saying its written works are one of its few redeeming qualities."

The bitterness that had quickly built up in Evelyn dissipated at his words. She had never been especially adept at holding grudges. She had not expected Loki to reply honestly and offer a favourable opinion of Earth's literature, especially considering the foul mood he was in. "I did not think that you would."

Loki sneered at her. "Do not pretend to know me, Miss McPherson."

Flushing slightly with indignity, Evelyn asked, "Is there a writer you particularly enjoy?" She was finding it hard to believe that she was talking to Loki, of all people, about books.

He pondered for a moment, rubbing his chin absently, the sharp edge gradually leaving his bright eyes. "The writings of a one William Shakespeare of Midgard, revered by your people, are imbued with evocative meanings. His elevated language is refreshingly comprehensible, one much simpler than the contemporary low-end dialect spoken by Midgardians today."

The corner of Evie's lip lifted into a half-smirk, her previous anger with him fading as the conversation turned casual. "Many people would disagree with you. Most people struggle to understand Shakespeare's plays. He writes in an older dialect of English, not one used at present."

Loki leaned forward, crossing his muscled arms over the tabletop, his eyes meeting hers from across the small room. His perturbingly unblinking eyes settled inquisitively on her face. "Do you struggle to comprehend this man's writings?" he asked, curiosity evident on his face.

Evie laughed lightly. "Shakespeare's brilliant. His plays are extraordinary, but he's not my favourite writer. As you well know," she said, narrowing her eyes accusingly at him, "I am a romantic. My favourite author is Jane Austen. Her writing is smart and witty. Honestly, I tend towards reading the classics rather than contemporary works of fiction." Her chocolate brown eyes took on a far-away glow as she recalled some of her best-beloved novels and writers, all of which she had left behind on Earth when she'd come to rehabilitate Loki.

"What is the matter, Miss McPherson?"

"Hm?"

Loki sat straighter in his seat, his lovely orbs never straying from her pale, now solemn face. "For a brief moment, you were no longer with me. Your mind was elsewhere, I believe. You long for Midgard, perhaps?" He asked in a gentler tone, one that would easily be mistaken as sympathy, but Evelyn knew better than to expect sympathy from Loki.

A pretty blush coloured Evie's cheeks then. "Oh, no," she protested. "I was just remembering all of the books I left behind, among other things. I love reading, but I'm afraid I may never see my collections again."

A frown creased his handsome face. "It's not so bad as that. I'm sure that, sentimental and magnanimous as Thor is," he said sarcastically, "he would be only too eager to return to Midgard to collect your tomes." He paused for a moment, as if considering something of importance. His brow was set with frown lines, his thin lips pursed. "In the meantime, you are welcome to my personal collection. I have several Midgardian tomes among my shelves," he offered stoically, no emotion evident on his face. "But none from this Jane Austen you speak of, I should add."

Evelyn could hardly contain her delight. "Do you really mean that?" Loki only nodded, his eyes suddenly uncharacteristically soft at her display of careless and uninhibited happiness. Quickly, and all too soon for Loki's tastes, her illuminating smile disappeared, replaced by a frown. "You're so changeable. I can't keep up with you sometimes. What triggers your moods like that, I'd like to know," she said pensively.

Loki sunk back into his seat, a glower settling on his face as she finished. "My reasons are of no concern to you," he snapped.

Evelyn raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. She didn't want to spoil his mood now that he was being slightly more pleasant. Timidly, she asked, "Dare I say we're making progress?"

Loki frowned, rising from his seat. "It was but a gesture from one lover of the written word to another. Do not try to hyper-analyze my actions," he snapped defensively.

"Fair enough. I was only going to say that the act of sharing is indicative of a humbling of character and an acceptance of communality, and ergo humility and modesty. Not to mention that you offering your library to me was an act of empathy for another."

Loki turned his back to her, his broad shoulders tense and his neck stiff, clearly displeased by her words and their weight. Evelyn kept her eyes carefully trained on him as she smoothed down her jeans and rose from her seat. His offer to her had been an act of empathy, even though he refused to acknowledge it as such. Evelyn was eager to take advantage of Loki's rare act of kindness and explore his library when she found the time.

When Loki did nt turn back to her, she said, "I won't see you tomorrow. But I'll be back the day after."

Loki spun to face her, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why won't you be here tomorrow?"

"I'll be…detained," she replied carefully.

A glare settled on Loki's face. He was clearly not amused by her elusiveness. "What will detain you?"

Evelyn considered for a moment. It wasn't his business what she did on her own time, mind you, he had offered his library to her, something that was personal to him. Surely his act of kindness could be rewarded. "If you must know, I'll be attending the Festival of Lights."

A bitter grin crossed Loki's face. "Ah, yes. The wondrous Festival of Lights. After several hundred years it becomes somewhat redundant. I no longer see the appeal in watching a light show and engaging in all those foolish jovialities you simple people seem drawn to. You will, no doubt, be bored senseless as Thor will be unable to attend to you. He will be obliged to attend to his princely duties, mostly visiting the light show artists and vendors. You'll have no one for company." He leaned against the wall of his cell, just beside the window, smirking with self-importance.

Evelyn frowned at him, upset by his seamless lapse back into his usual arrogant self. Her level temper flared. "Actually, unlike your dejected self, I won't be spending the day alone. I'm going with someone who will see after me, a man who far surpasses you in graciousness and chivalry."

Loki scowled at her, pushing away from the window and approaching her with calculated strides, his green eyes blackening with irritation. Before she could so much as put her chair between them, Loki was in front of her, tall and foreboding, boxing her into the dim corner of the room, leaving but a foot between their chests. He glared down at her, placing one slender, long-fingered hand beside her head and leaning over her.

"And who might this gallant escort be, may I ask, who has put my charm to shame and who so clearly has you smitten."

Evelyn blushed, equally with embarrassment and crossness. She never should have answered his infernal questions. This wasn't the kind of conversation she wanted to have with a temperamental, taunting Loki.

"Fandral," she replied quietly, meeting his unwavering gaze with her own less-sure one.

Silence followed her admission before Loki began to chuckle darkly. "Let me lend you some friendly advice, Miss McPherson. Fandral's charm is deceiving. He appears to be all smiles and easy manners, but he is an outright scoundrel. Permit me to be chivalrous for once and warn you against associating personally and intimately with Fandral." His deep voice rumbled through her chest.

Evelyn swallowed back her heart, which now seemed to have risen into her throat.

"Fandral is a god of excessive appetites. If you do not wish to become involved in satisfying said appetites, then I would emphatically recommend keeping your distance from him. Do not let his charms fool you, Miss McPherson. Fandral has constructed himself a reputation for chasing after pretty faces and using them to his advantage. Mind you," he leaned down until his sharp emerald eyes were level with hers, his straight nose but two short inches away, "you're not really his type. Fandral has a habit of associating with loose, desperate women." He paused as his eyes carefully surveyed her face, stripping away her defences layer by layer as she succumbed to the swirling depths of his malachite eyes. "Are you desperate, Miss McPherson?" he mumbled in a low tone, leaning closer to her.

An indescribable heat shot through her body. His breath caressed her face and she was powerless to his immobilizing gaze. She carefully licked her lips, watching Loki's eyes follow the action as though with strange fascination.

"We're just friends," she managed shakily. "Besides," she continued, her tone becoming harsher as she managed to get a grip of her unravelled composure, "I don't think what I do on my own time is any concern of yours. Step aside, Loki," she said. She needed to get her point across and discourage any future commentary from Loki on her personal life. The way he left her frayed at the seams of reason was terribly wrong and she would have no more of it.

Loki did not move, however. His eyes studied her face with careful attention. Even when someone knocked on his cell door, he remained where he was. His proximity to her was stifling and Evelyn could hear her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

The knocking came again, louder.

"There's someone at the door," she breathed after a moment.

"I'm aware." He deliberately straightened his posture and stepped away from her, eyes still trained on her.

The knocking was insistent now. "Evelyn? Are you in there? Loki?"

It was Fandral. Loki tore his gaze away from her to glare with unrepressed hatred at the door. "It appears your knight in shining armour has arrived to save you from the clutches of the terrible fiend."

Evelyn stepped from the corner, ignoring the door now. "That's not true."

Loki frowned at her. "You know it is."

Evelyn shook her head adamantly. "You're not a monster. I was wrong when I said that to you all those months ago. I'm just sorry that you believed it."

Loki's face contorted into pained expression. The truth was that he did believe it—with his whole heart he considered himself a monster.

"Open up!" cried Fandral through the door as his pounding fist shook the door.

Evelyn kept her eyes on Loki for another moment before opening the door to a furious, red-faced Fandral, puffing with frustration. Evelyn smiled apologetically.

"Sorry about that," she said tiredly.

Fandral ignored her and looked past her shoulder to where Loki stood, glowering at the new arrival. He did not enter the room as he levelled his gaze with the taller, ebony-haired god. His crisp blue eyes were accusing and challenging as they clashed with the unreadable emerald of Loki's eyes.

"What are you playing at?" he asked snidely.

Loki sneered at the blonde-haired man. "I might ask you the same question," he replied in a level tone, his gaze shifting briefly to Evelyn who stood awkwardly in the mix of their clash of male pride.

"Are you implying something?" Fandral demanded, stepping into the room.

Loki seemed to bristle at the unwelcomed intrusion, his nostrils flaring. "So there is a brain behind that pretty face," Loki taunted. "How reassuring."

Evelyn stepped forward, reminding the two men of her presence. "That's quite enough, you two," she said, giving Fandral's shirt a pleading tug. She just wanted to get out of the room before either of them inflicted permanent damage on the other.

"Give me a moment with the proud prince, Evie," Fandral said softly, but his voice held a commanding tone. Reluctantly Evelyn obliged, leaving the two men to their devices, and closing the door behind her.

OOOOO

The two men waited for Evelyn to shut the door firmly behind her. Steel blue burned against forest green in a silent battle of pride. Fandral looked about the cell distastefully, his eyes mocking Loki's unfortunate circumstances.

"You know, I was immensely pleased when Evelyn told us that she had packed you a punch last month. You remember, yes? She just about resigned altogether. Many of us had wanted to break your nose until she finally had the guts to do it for us. I think that was when I first noticed her. I'm not usually enticed by the timid, intelligent type," he said, musing aloud. "But, I hadn't realized she was capable of that kind of intensity."

Loki narrowed his eyes at the shorter, blonde god. His blood was boiling just listening to him talk about Evelyn. "What do you want?" Loki demanded icily, his patience all but worn out.

Fandral shrugged noncommittally. "Nothing in particular. I just like an opportunity to gloat about my good fortunes. Unlike your miserable self, I'll be in the company of a fine young lady for the rest of the evening and tomorrow."

Loki's fists clenched at his sides. "You're trying to aggravate me," he said angrily.

"Is it working?" Fandral asked jeeringly.

"Get out," Loki grit out, his voice deep with withheld rage.

Fandral did not move, but levelled his gaze with Loki's. "Evelyn wasn't in her room last night," he said abruptly.

Narrowing his emerald eyes, Loki sized up Fandral, straightening his posture. He wasn't sure how Fandral could possibly know something like that. Resentment swelled in his chest. Perhaps he had underestimated Miss McPherson's and Fandral's relationship. That thought alone left him incensed and disgusted, feeling foolish and betrayed. He didn't know why the betrayal struck him so fiercely in the gut. Perhaps he had thought that his companionship with Miss McPherson was something only they shared, something that he could call his own, something that no one else possessed.

"The maids are a gossipy lot. Apparently they saw her this morning in naught but her nightdress sneaking back to her room from the direction of your," he paused, eyes roving the small space, "charming abode." He raised his brows suggestively. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that now would you?"

First relief filled him. The maids had told him, which meant he and Miss McPherson were only friends, as she had said earlier. After the brief pause of relief, fury rose like acrid bile in Loki's throat. He couldn't supress his hatred for the arrogant man any longer. Before he could check himself and rein his emotions, he launched himself at Fandral, grabbing him roughly by the collar and shoving him mercilessly against the wall.

Fandral recovered quickly from the shock of Loki's violent reaction and chuckled to himself. "So you do know something about it? That saucy minx. Who would've thought she'd be paying you midnight visits?"

Loki slammed Fandral against the wall anew, his rational mind now dominated by blinding rage. "How dare you insinuate such impropriety," he growled. "Miss McPherson is an honourable woman. Unlike you, she is principled. She's not just another one of your loose women. You don't know anything about her, you ignorant ponce. You don't deserve her company. She is far above you, in every way possible."

"Since when are you a lover of mortals?" Fandral jeered.

Loki shoved him once again against the wall, his fists clenching tightly about his collar. He wanted to smash his pig-headed, too-perfect face in with every fibre of his body. "I'm not. I merely abhor you."

"I see. Now kindly let me down. My date is waiting for me," Fandral goaded. Loki raised his fist to punch him. "Ah, ah. I would reconsider what you're about to do. I don't think that your dearest Miss McPherson would appreciate senseless violence on your behalf."

Loki quaked with anger, but lowered his fist. If he lashed out then Fandral won. He would appear the victim and Evelyn would be disappointed in him yet again. Punching the arrogant god wouldn't win him Miss McPherson's affections…

_Affections?_

He had not meant to think of affections. The word had been right there on his mind, ready to be thought. Its readiness sent him off kilter. By no means was he pursuing her affections. He could never value a mortal enough to desire their affection—that was a weakness his brother possessed, not he.

Loki gingerly released Fandral and took several steps back, silently brooding and chastising his repulsive thoughts. Fandral seemed extremely self-satisfied and let himself out of Loki's cell with a snide grin on his face.

Before the door slammed shut behind him, Loki glimpsed the arrogant god slip his arm around Miss McPherson's waist, pulling her to him. She didn't look back, but Fandral did, casting him a victorious grin, one worn by a man triumphant. The door shut firmly and Loki saw red. For the first time in months he felt truly trapped, a prisoner completely disconnected to the world beyond his cage's rounded walls. He had no say, no influence in the world beyond his cell. He wouldn't know what went on beyond these walls, and how he longed to know what would transpire between Miss McPherson and the pompous Fandral.

Knowing she had a good head on her shoulders reassured him, but the thought alone only awoke more conflicted thoughts in his already befuddled mind. Angrily, he threw his fist into the stone wall, splitting the skin of his knuckles. Why did it bother him so much? He loathed to even consider why she was constantly on his mind and why it bothered him so much to know that Fandral had his lecherous arms around her. Newly aggravated by his unbecoming thoughts, he fell back on his bed and thought no more of it.

**You guys are so amazing! Every review I read put a smile on my face. You're all so thoughtful! Your enthusiastic reviews make me eager to update as quickly as I can. Much love to you all, readers and reviewers 3**

**Ta!**


	9. The Lost Criminologist

9: The Lost Criminologist

That night's festivities passed in a blurry haze of spiced ales, slow-cooking meats, laughter, gaiety and, of course, the most splendid series of fireworks Evelyn had ever beheld. By the end of the evening, Fandral was too intoxicated to walk straight and it had fallen upon Evelyn to deliver the boisterous, obnoxiously flirtatious god to his chambers. With his arm slung sloppily across her small shoulders, his heavy head pressed into the nook of her shoulder and neck, and the majority of his bodyweight placed on the young woman's frame, it had proven to be a most arduous task. After a painful length of time that involved much stumbling and grumbling on her behalf, Evelyn finally arrived at Fandral's home, a lodging owned by the Royal Family and offered to Thor's closest friends, the Warriors, as a courtesy for their dedication to the Allfather.

After several vain attempts, Fandral finally let himself into the regal-looking stone cottage. Evelyn set him down on a lounge seat that she found in the next room and removed his heavy, traditional outer armour and his shoes, leaving him in his trousers and shirt. The entire time he babbled nonsensically about foolish affairs that Evelyn had no desire to keep track of. He was a crude, chatty drunk, something that deterred her from counting Fandral as anything closer than a friendly acquaintance.

He had proven to be incredibly poor company and Evelyn couldn't help but think on how she would have preferred to be on her own to enjoy the festivities rather than dependent on Fandral. Carefully, she lifted his legs onto the lounge seat and placed her hands on her hips, frowning.

"Well, good night, Fandral," she said finally, inspecting her work. "Thank you for the evening. It was wonderful," she said kindly. _Except for the part where you got so smashed that I needed to bring you home before you made a fool of yourself_, she thought with annoyance. She was too generous of character to inform him of what a complete ass he had been, instead choosing to rant internally to herself.

She leaned forward and planted a light kiss on his cheek. Just as she drew away, his strong arm snaked slyly around her waist, pulling her abruptly down onto the lounge bed with him, forcing to awkwardly straddle his hips with her knees, her hands planted on either side of his self-satisfied, grinning face.

"Where are you going?" he whined, grinning lazily up at her as he clung to her curvaceous hips. "Why don't you stay the night?" he asked, trying to pull her down further.

Evelyn's back went rigid as she protested against his powerful grip. "Fandral, you're wasted and being incredibly ungentlemanly. Now release me at once before I arrest the nerve functions of your left arm for the next twenty-four hours," she snapped angrily.

Her snappish tone must have awakened a sliver of his rational mind. With a childish pout he relented. "Fine. You're no fun, you prude," he mumbled, releasing her with an ungallant shove. Evelyn stumbled off the lounge seat and to her feet, glaring at the arrogant god. Fandral rolled onto his side and, after a brief moment, a frightful snore escaped his lips. He had fallen fast asleep.

Evelyn snorted disdainfully. The evening had started well enough, but she had come to realize that, just as Loki had forewarned her, Fandral had appetites. These included fine wines and long-legged goddesses. More than once throughout the evening, Fandral had slipped away from her to cozy up with various women leaving her waiting aimlessly on her own and feeling very much like a fool. Evelyn shook her head, recalling his drunken banter. She wasn't a prude as he had so dourly stated. She had principles. Shutting the door firmly behind her, Evelyn hurried off into the night, back towards the castle that loomed in the nearby distance. This would be the last time she'd let the morally loose Fandral escort her anywhere. She knew better than to trust men—many of the ones she had encountered in her life, save her Gramps and the Avengers, were an unreliable lot.

It was March, but the temperature still dropped drastically with the darkening of evening into the wee hours of night. Evelyn, alone and shivering in her Asgardian cloak, meandered aimlessly through the convoluted streets of the unfamiliar town. She could no longer hear the sound of festivities as many vendors and entertainers had likely packed up for the night. The castle itself was omnipresent; however, it seemed that no matter how far she walked, the castle remained at a fix distance, laughing at her helplessness. After a solid hour, Evelyn was quite certain that she was irreversibly lost.

"Foolish girl," she muttered, chastising herself for not keeping better track of her progression. The homes and stores about her were cast in obscure blackness, all lights and fires within doused as their inhabitants slumbered peacefully and safely in their homes. Evelyn dearly wished she could say the same for herself, but the impending darkness had made the face of every building blur together in one dark, ominous mass. It seemed as if all chance of a warm bed that night would be but a hopeful dream. It was then, in her moment of despair, that she heard the sound of voices exchanging in conversation. Evelyn was spurred on anew, stumbling down the unfamiliar cobbled street and towards the sound of the voices.

They were men she realized as she was finally able to detect two broad outlines. She abruptly slowed her pace when the voices rose in argument. Her heart thudded loudly within her ribcage. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to follow the voices, but it had seemed her best shot then. Now she was regretting her decision as the taller of the two men roughly grabbed the shorter one by the collar of his shirt. Evelyn stopped short, her eyes seeking out a temporary hiding spot. She made out a dim alley and quickly darted into it.

Her laboured breathing quaked through her trembling body, but it was the fear-raising sound of nearing voices that caused her heart to nearly stop. They were walking towards her. In vain, Evelyn tried to still her shuddering form. The two shadowy figures stopped outside the mouth of the alley, some five feet away. Evelyn's eyes widened in the dark, praying she would not be seen by them.

"...come the time. There will be no complications," said the shorter of the men, his voice quivering with fear as the taller man loomed forebodingly above him.

The other man spoke, and his voice, deep, hollow and venomous was not one she would ever easily forget. "You pathetic, cowardly fool. Your impudence nearly jeopardized my plans," he growled. Evelyn shuddered at the sound of his voice, one filled with such hatred and cold unfeeling that she shivered anew.

"The Jotun soldiers will be ready. I have debriefed them of the dead zone in Odin's barrier," the smaller continued, his voice a terrified whine.

Evelyn's heart sped up as his words mulled over in her mind. _Jotun soldiers?_

"Who else knows of our plans?"

"N-no one, my Lord," the smaller man stuttered, bowing like a pitiable coward.

"Good."

The tall man straightened his posture, his shoulders and general width seeming to broaden from the slight alteration. His girth seemed to expand into the black shadows that stretched about him, elongating and widening his form.

With that, the spine-chilling sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed around them. The shadowy figure procured a long, curving blade. With one thrust of his powerful arm, the tall man speared the man through the chest, the lethal blade impaling the man's body, protruding out from his back. Evelyn threw her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out in shocked terror. The body of the shorter man slumped over the blade, limp, the life that had filled him not a minute before now with cruel suddenness taken away.

The man retracted the blade letting the body fall unceremoniously onto the ground in an unmoving heap. Unmoved he bent to wipe his blade on the dead man's cloak before sheathing it. He turned to look at the castle in the distance. "Your precious realms will burn, Odin Allfather, and you will be powerless to stop it," he swore darkly before seemingly vanishing into the shadows, his presence consumed by darkness, as if he had never been there.

Evelyn waited several minutes before she allowed herself to stir. Her neck and cheeks were soaked, and Evelyn realized that she was crying. She had a terrible suspicion that all would not be well in Asgard for much longer. As much as she desperately wanted to find the strength to navigate the foreign streets until she reached the castle to inform Thor of the murder she'd witnessed, she knew that reasonably she could do no such thing. The cold had left her entire body bitingly numb, all energy and warmth sucked from her. And the terror she had just witnessed was beyond what she'd ever seen before. Witnessing the cold-blooded killing had thoroughly shaken her to the bone. She was far too terrified to wander the streets for fear the man might see her and do the same unto her as he had to his companion. The trauma of what she had witnessed had seemingly immobilized her entire body.

Fear, shock, desolation, and her freezing body had all cumulated and left her paralyzed. Fatigue was quickly overcoming her body, and despite her best efforts she could not fend off the natural process. She wrapped the cloak tighter about her shoulders in hopes of saving her rapidly depleting body heat. A few minutes more and she succumbed to sleep, curled against the cold stone wall, laying on the damp ground in a miserable heap. That night she dreamt of him and his bone-chilling voice. He spoke to her and told her that she had not escaped his notice; that he was coming for her and would delight in destroying everyone she loved. That was his promise.

OOOOO

On the dawn of the second and final day of the Festival of Lights and all its entailed festivities, Loki woke with a sense of dread. Something was amiss that day, as an ominous premonition settled into his bones. He did not know why he felt it, but he did. He was a ball of tensed muscle by the time mid-morning came rolling around, presenting with it a flustered Thor who barged loudly into his room.

Loki looked away from his window. From his jail at the top of the castle, he had a clear view of the land surrounding the castle. An hour earlier, he had seen a dispatch of a dozen Asgardian guards march through the front gates with purposeful strides. This sighting, of course, had only confirmed his reasons for wariness. The Festival was a day of rest and no guards were required to make rounds. Something was wrong, he knew it. He turned to his brother, eager to know what the guards had been sent to do. He was not expecting what Thor was about to ask.

"Has Evie been to see you, brother?" he demanded. There was no animosity in his older brother's voice, only distress. Thor's fear was a rare emotion to behold. Normally he would bask in his brother's discomfort and weakness, but not today. Something _was_ wrong and that knowledge left Loki feeling uncharacteristically compliant.

"I have not seen her since yesterday, why?" he replied anxiously, pushing away from the window to approach his brother. "Thor, what has happened?"

Thor frowned deeply, the flesh of his brow layering in an expression of concern. "Evelyn was not in her bedchamber this morning. To the maids' knowledge, she never returned to her room last evening following the festivities."

Loki felt a bubble of rage consume him. "Have you asked your dear friend, Fandral?" he snapped angrily. "The arrogant lout was with her last evening."

Thor nodded. "He was the first I went to. He was still sick from all the drink he had consumed at the festivities. He said Evelyn brought him to his lodgings and then promptly left. He remembers nothing else."

Loki scowled. "That useless scoundrel."

Thor pursed his lips, but nodded. "Fandral was certainly no gentleman last night, to let Evie leave unaccompanied and venture into an unfamiliar town."

Loki breathed heavily in an effort to calm his anger. He needed to think clearly. "If you know she did not return last night, then why would you come to me?"

A brief silence passed in which Thor levelled a knowing and accusing gaze at his brother. "Fandral informed me that the last time Evie failed to return to her room at night, it was because she had spent it with you."

All at once Loki's best efforts to remain calm were rendered vain as he was overcome by renewed fury. _Fandral_, he thought with a growl. For that scoundrel of a man to dare impugn Miss McPherson's honour as an honest woman—it sickened him.

Thor was able to read his brother's emotions fairly easily as, in his moment of unreserved outrage, he put every feeling, every thought on public display. "You do not deny it? So she did spend the night with you all those weeks ago."

Loki glared at his brother. "Yes."

Thor's bright blue eyes shifted with the onslaught of thoughts that rushed through his mind as he painted a fictive image of what had possibly transpired between the two. Loki could see the erroneous image that was formulating in his brother's mind and it irked him. "If you took advantage of her, Loki," he threatened, growing suddenly angry.

Loki did not permit his brother to finish the empty threat. "Please, brother. Do not make a fool of yourself by finishing that statement."

Thor nodded reluctantly, his expression grave. "I had not thought it to be true when Fandral had insinuated that such a relationship existed between the two of you. But Evie is far too principled and you far too sanctimonious for such a thing to occur between you both," he said.

Loki glared at his brother. Thor's implication that he and Miss McPherson were far too different to ever be reconciled as more than removed companions annoyed him, he knew not why. But he would think no more of it. Currently his chest was tight with ill-ease with the notion that she could be anywhere and in grave danger. His mind recollected the events that had brought her to his doorstep last month. She had said that she'd thought someone had been following her.

"She could be in danger," he said darkly, brow furrowing.

"I have already dispatched a section of the guard to search the streets for her. If she is lost and out there, they will find her," Thor said in an attempt to reassure himself.

The brothers sat in gloomy silence. Each felt powerless in their own respect. Loki, confined to his cell, could be of no use to anyone. Thor was no better off, hating to think on what might have become of Evie. He had failed to protect her and his guilt for it was overwhelming.

Another half hour passed. For once, Loki had not minded his older brother's company. He desperately wanted to prolong the inevitable future of being alone with his troubling thoughts. He tried not to worry about Miss McPherson, but the stomach-turning knot in his stomach would not relent.

Just as Thor rose to leave, near noontime, Loki's jail door flew open to reveal a haggard Evelyn. Her clothes were covered in street grime, her normally tamed hair now a tangled mess. Her brown eyes had a wild look to them as they scanned the room. Loki rose to his feet just as a breathless, heavyset guard flung himself into the room behind her, grabbing a hold of Evelyn's shoulder and restraining her from advancing any further into the room. The powerful rush of relief that swelled through his body was disorienting, and was quickly replaced by confusion, when he noticed the heavy manacles weighing down her small, delicate wrists. Anger flared within him, rearing its head.

"My sincerest apologies my princes, we found her asleep in an alley near the outskirt of town. She insisted on speaking with you, Thor. I tried to stop her, but when she found out that you were with your brother, she ran like mad," the guard said, panting his apology, his cheeks an unbecoming shade of purple.

Thor stared, mouth agape at the sight, his mind struggling to process this information. He opened and then closed his mouth, at a loss for words. Loki scowled at the .

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled, gesturing to Evelyn's chained wrists.

The guard flushed indignantly. "I do not answer to criminals," he said defiantly.

Thor spluttered with rage at the remark. "Answer your prince, man!" he ordered, his normally composed attitude flaring angrily.

The guard looked properly chastised. "Miss McPherson is to be held under the suspicion of murder."

Loki could not believe his ears. Miss McPherson? Murder? The notion was so ridiculous that he would have laughed had she not been standing before him clearly distressed, frantic and manacled like a common criminal. Loki met her frightened chocolate eyes and his chest tightened with an unfamiliar desire to protect her. All he knew was that seeing her so debased as to be treated like a criminal, someone like him, was perturbing. Her eyes were pleading with them and Loki was beginning to grow frustrated by his brother's dumbfounded silence.

"This is outrageous," he snarled, stepping predatorily towards the guard and Miss McPherson, with full intention of forcibly removing her from the warden's grip. The guard stepped back cautiously, pulling her with him.

Loki paused in his step and Thor advanced instead. "This must be a mistake, an unfortunate misunderstanding. Evie is not capable of murder," he assured the guard.

The guard looked like a deer in headlights. "She was found near the corpse of a dead man, cause of death is being investigated. There have been no witnesses as of yet, but her proximity alone, which was some five feet from the dead man, implicates her as a likely suspect, and as of now, our _only_ suspect," the guard explained nervously.

Loki felt the fire in his belly rage. He had no doubt that Miss McPherson had witnessed an atrocity last night, but for some reason she had not shared her account with the guards. There was something vital that she needed to say, and soon judging by the rapidity with which the entire situation at hand had unwound out of control.

"Evie," Thor turned to the distressed woman finally, "tell us what happened."

Evelyn licked her lips, averting her gaze to the ground before looking back at Thor. "Can I speak to you both alone?" she asked, eyeing the guard sceptically.

The guard bristled. "She refuses to speak to anyone, said she'd only talk to you or Loki, my Lord." He gave Loki a hateful glare.

Loki frowned at that. It had to be serious if she would only have himself and Thor as confidantes. The guard's presence was just delaying what might prove to be invaluable information. "Release her," Loki demanded, his voice a low growl.

The guard stuttered indignantly in protest.

"Do as he says!" Thor roared.

With clumsy, fumbling fingers, the guard unlocked the manacles, freeing Evelyn. The young woman rubbed her red, raw wrists, wincing as her fingers brushed the sensitive and abused skin.

"Leave us," Thor commanded, gently pulling the trembling woman into his powerful arms, holding her securely against his chest. She eagerly leaned into his embrace.

"But—

"Leave!" Thor repeated, his patience thoroughly worn.

The guard scrambled from the room, shutting the door to Loki's cell behind him.

Loki felt strangely annoyed as he watched Miss McPherson's small body quake in the strong, smothering embrace of his older brother. Her hands clutched desperately at his armour, like a drowning woman, desperate for a semblance of deliverance from the suffocating depths of her sorrows.

When Thor spoke again, all previous anger was gone from his voice. "Tell us what happened last night, Evie," he asked, his voice deep and soothing. Thor gently released her from his arms and led her to Loki's bed where he sat her down.

Loki stood beside his brother, gazing down expectantly at the distressed mortal. She closed her eyes tightly and a single tear snaked down the planes of her face. When she opened her eyes, the wildness that had previously inhabited the chocolate depths was replaced by a fierce determination.

"I brought Fandral to his home last night. He was too drunk to stay upright." she said resentfully. "Then I tried to find my way back, but I got lost."

"Why did you not stay the night with Fandral? It would have been safer, surely, than venturing alone into the night," Thor asked.

Evelyn bit her lip. "I'm not so sure it would have been safer. Simply put, Fandral made his intentions known last night during his drunken stupor. I had no intentions of complying with them," she admitted, flushing ashamedly.

"That lecherous cretin," Loki muttered darkly, before turning his resentment onto Evelyn. "Did I not give you fair warning about him?" he said, frustrated. "You refused to take heed and now see what's become of you? Nothing but trouble, I said. But no! You're so righteous; always inclined to see the better in people even when there is none to be found." He knew his words were stemming from thoughts relating more so to his personal circumstances and his rehabilitation than with Fandral. "You're like a bloody martyr," he growled, his emerald eyes ablaze as the fear he had felt on her behalf, the anger towards Fandral, and his own dissatisfaction with his useless circumstances exploded forth from him in one bitter mass of outward blame.

Evelyn looked at him with such sadness and exhaustion that he instantly regretted his thoughtless words. A situation like this required compassion, an emotion he was not capable of—that was his brother's area of expertise.

"That was unwarranted, brother," Thor chastised.

Loki gritted his teeth but refused to apologize, he had meant what he said despite its apparent insensitivity. Evelyn continued, notably less confident now.

"I was lost," she said again, "and I wandered about for at least an hour. It was so dark that I could barely discern anything around me. And then I heard voices."

This was what they had been waiting for. Sensing her rising dread, the brothers leaned in closer to her, attentively trying to hear every word as her voice dropped into a near-whisper. As she spoke her gaze turned distant, unseeing, and Loki knew that she was reliving those fateful moments in her mind's eye.

"I followed the voices. It was two men, but as I got closer I realized that they were arguing. My instincts told me to turn around so I hid in a nearby alley. They began to come towards me and stopped right outside the alley. There were two of them—the smaller man, the one who was murdered, he was working for the other man." Evelyn swallowed. "I'll never forget the man he answered to. He was obscured in shadows so I never saw his face, but he was tall, taller than either of you, and broad. His voice…" she closed her eyes as if reliving a nightmare. "I'll never forget it—like the rumble of thunder overhead, but with all the deadliness of a strike of lightning."

"Go on," Thor urged encouragingly when Evelyn hesitated.

"I was able to hear some of what they said. The smaller man reported on debriefing soldiers from Jotunheim about a flaw in Asgard's borders." Loki frowned at the mention of Frost Giants. She continued. "He called it a dead zone. When the larger man asked if anyone else knew of the plan, the smaller man denied it. The leader said 'good,'" she paused, taking a shaky breath, "…then killed him…"

Her voice faded out. "Oh, God," she gasped, covering her face with her hands and bending over double as shock shot through her body like an icy charge. Thor and Loki stood apprehensively before her, unsure of how to comfort her. Loki had never seen her so shaken, rendered so utterly distraught and vulnerable. He grew panicked, unaccustomed as he was to seeing her so irreparably broken. He had murdered countless times and eventually it had no longer left him feeling nauseated and disgusted, but Miss McPherson, she was innocent to such things. Murder was as good as fiction to her—until now. What was more was this new information about a possible assault on Asgard by the Frost Giants. He hardly thought it possible, but if Miss McPherson had not been deceived and there was in fact a dead zone in Asgard's borders known to Odin's enemies, then danger could very well be imminent. Loki cast his brother a severe look that Thor reciprocated, each in turn silently acknowledging the possible threat looming just beyond their borders.

When he turned back to Miss McPherson, she was trembling and gasping quietly as she attempted to steady her erratic breathing. It pained him to witness her undoing and, without truly being aware of his actions, he cautiously advanced and placed a solid hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head, meeting his emerald green eyes with her large misty brown ones.

She carelessly wiped away her tears. "You believe me, don't you? I could never—I would never…"

Loki squeezed her shoulder and knelt before her, his dark eyes filled with resentment for that which she had been witness to. He could not speak, so filled with detestation as he was for the way she had been treated by the guards and for the evils she had witnessed.

"Of course we do, Evie," Thor said from behind Loki.

"And the things they said, what does it all mean?" she asked, slowly regaining her composure. Little did Loki know, but his small gesture of comfort had provided her with renewed strength. Loki looked over his shoulder at his brother. They exchanged a brief glance of doubt.

"I will bring this knowledge to my father. Speak of this to no one. It stays between us," Thor ordered, his voice lowering with authority of a would-be king. "If there is truth to what you heard those men say, then the entirety of Asgard will be indebted to you."

Evelyn nodded meekly. "What will happen to me? Are they really going to arrest me?" she asked, the immobilizing fear from earlier manifesting itself in her features.

Loki's grip on her tightened and she looked at him once more. "You're going to be just fine, Miss McPherson. No harm will come to you; that I can guarantee." She only nodded mutely and, despite the fact that Loki was locked away from the world with no ability to influence anything or anyone beyond his cell, Evelyn believed him.

Thor ran a hand across his weary face. "I must return to the Festival to save face, but I will meet with my father this evening. Shall I walk you to your chambers, Evie?"

Evelyn's eyes widened fearfully. "I—I'd rather not be alone, actually."

Thor nodded, understanding. "Then you will stay with Loki for the rest of the day until I return for you."

Loki turned to stare sceptically at the brawny god. "Is that a good idea?" he asked uncertainly, rising to his feet. He did not want to provide her with a false sense of security, not to mention her state of vulnerability left his chest tight with an emotion that he could not name, but one that was tempting him to do something impossibly irrational, like embrace her.

"Of course. Evie feels safe with you. I'll send a maid to draw a hot bath and bring some fresh clothes around. How does that sound?" he asked.

"I don't—

Loki began, but was cut off by Evelyn. "I would like that very much."

Loki gaped at her for a moment, but then quickly shut his mouth when he realized his undignified manners. He stood in front of her about to protest, but then realized something. If he wanted to protect her, for whatever outlandish, uncharacteristic reasons that he had yet to determine, then the only place he could do so would be within the confines of this very room.

"Would you mind terribly?"

Loki looked straight at her, weighing his thoughts and options. "I suppose not."

She frowned at him. "You have a choice, you realize. I won't force you to let me stay."

Loki nodded, swallowing roughly. "I know."

Thor watched the two companions quizzically.

'Then it's settled. I'll return by nightfall. Rest easy, Evie. I will have all charges against you erased from record. You do not deserve to have such tarnishing profanity smeared across your good name."

He let himself out, giving each of them a determined nod, then shut the door firmly behind him, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

Loki continued to stand beside his bed, on which Evelyn sat in a tense ball. He rocked nervously on his heels. Nervousness was a foreign emotion indeed. He was always assured, always knew what he wanted and how to go about attaining it. But now, he didn't quite know what to say to her for fear of upsetting her unravelled composure.

He chose the generic line of questioning that he assumed common people normally pursued. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, looking down his nose at her.

Miss McPherson merely shrugged. "I still can't believe what I saw. It's surreal, but with every passing hour the reality of witnessing a murder strikes me anew."

Loki only nodded, for once his silver tongue failing to provide him with words to weave.

"I was so scared," she breathed quietly, so quietly, in fact, that Loki almost failed to hear her. "Does it get easier?" she asked, releasing a shuddering breath.

Loki knew she was speaking of seeing bloodshed and murder. "No," he answered honestly. Driven by a foreign impulse that would not be denied by his pragmatic mind, he carefully, so as not to frighten her, lowered himself onto the bed beside her, just a foot away. "But you get stronger."

Evelyn turned her head to look at him. Her dark, chocolate-coloured eyes stared sadly into his own for a moment, before lowering her gaze. Loki wanted to pull her into his chest like his brother had done, but that would be wrong of him. He was not a compassionate man. He had never comforted anyone in his life. He would surely do it wrong. Besides, he could never hold her in his arms—it was not his place. He had no claim to her. Thor was her friend which was his claim to her, but Miss McPherson was but his professional companion. He had no right to her and the kind of intimacy that applies to friendships.

"Back on Earth, working for S.H.I.E.L.D.," she spoke suddenly, "I mainly had a desk job, you know, criminal profiling and whatnot. Natasha taught me some basic self-defence, but I never let her teach me how to use a gun. I just wanted to be able to defend myself." She frowned, and paused, struggling for words. Loki patiently sat beside her, waiting for her to find them. "I'm not a fighter. I've never seen the gore of battles that some of the Avengers have seen. I could never be like that. To take a life…even if necessary, it seems so heartless."

Loki felt a small stab of injury at her words. Murder was heartless. _He_ was heartless, but that was no revelation. No matter her best efforts at helping him, he would carry the weight of his nameless victims with him for the rest of his life. Perhaps he was slowly regretting his actions, but no amount of repentance would erase his stained ledger. That alone was one reason why he thought it a useless waste of time to repent his actions. It would not change what was truth.

He said nothing in reply. Instead, they eased back into silence, each entertaining their own weighty thoughts. Despite the silence that pervaded the room, there was an unorthodox comfort in knowing that neither would be alone throughout the dreary afternoon.

Eventually, the maid came and ran a bath for Miss McPherson. She emerged from his washing chamber a half hour later wrapped in a cotton tunic the colour of cream, her face clean and cheeks glowing a healthy hue of pink. Her long brown hair hung in wet waves down the length of her back. Her glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. The unfamiliar, but not wholly unwelcome, smell of vanilla permeated his room as she slowly and tiredly propelled herself across the room.

Loki watched her progression towards his bed from where he sat rigidly in his wingback chair. His stomach flipped uncomfortably at the sight of her. There was something virtuously angelic about her presence that reminded him of the night she had appeared at his cell in her white night-dress. She was like an untouchable creature, a creature that was unknowingly drawing him in but that he could never attain. A low growl of possessiveness filled his throat as he watched her climb onto his emerald sheets, a sliver of her creamy thigh protruding from the overlapping folds of her robe. He suppressed the guttural, animalistic sound.

Without a word she curled onto her side in a ball, her back to him. She shifted around for several brief moments before her body shuddered as she, presumably, released a weighty breath. Her small form stilled after that, likely having fallen asleep. A part of him was urging him to rise from where he sat and go to her side, but he overpowered the sentiment and firmly gripped the arms of his chair, as if to physically restrain himself. It was futile, he knew. No amount of physical restraint would counter the fact that somehow the mortal woman had captivated him. He had formed a shameful attachment to her, one that he did not care to examine for fear of what it might reveal about himself.

He was only adding to his misery by concerning himself with her, but he was going to hell anyway, if he was not already living in it.

**Thanks for all the feedback; you guys are so kind! I love your enthusiasm and knowing that so many of you are invested in this story. Keep the comments coming! They fuel my creative juices. Just a heads up though, I have four papers due in the next two weeks (the joys of being an English Major), so I can't guarantee a speedy update. Rest assured, I will return no later than eight days hence :P**

**Ta!**


	10. Rebellion

**So, as you can tell from the previous chapter, this is the point in my story where my writer sensibilities take over and I actually start writing plot beyond the obvious character development. Things will go down. That is a promise.**

10: Rebellion

The weeks following the unfounded accusations made against Evelyn were trying ones. Thor had succeeded in relieving the charges made against her with the help of his father. The coroner who had examined the corpse of the victim had found traces of Dark Elf poison laced through his blood. The shape of the wound had been matched with the curving blade typical of the Dark Elves' swords. Thor, who had seen Evelyn handle Sif's Dark Elf blade two months prior, had insisted it was an impossible feat for a mere mortal woman to carry out.

To prove her innocence the courts had asked her to participate in a simulated re-enactment of the murder scene. Evelyn had been provided with a Dark Elf's blade and a manikin matching the height and girth of the victim. A red mark had been used to indicate the point of weapon entry. The magically forged sword had been in her hands not two minutes before the sensation of magic had wholly overwhelmed her senses. She had barely poked the manikin when she had completely passed out.

Somehow Thor had managed to keep Evelyn's information out of the hands of the authorities. His fear was that, should the murderer learn of her knowledge of his plans and that she had shared it with Asgard's princes, he would make her his next target. Evelyn greatly appreciated his effort to protect her identity. However, despite the cautious measures he had taken to ensure her safety, she still could not help but be afraid.

Evelyn's sessions with Loki had been going fairly smoothly since then. They had spoken very little of her experience that night—mostly by her doing—choosing to leave any non-pleasantries at the door. Loki had asked her once, the week following the harrowing experience, if she had wanted to talk about it, but she had adamantly refused. He had not brought it up since.

The previous four months had seemed to fly by so rapidly. In a week she would only have two more months to work with Loki. A tug pulled at her heart and she realized, much to her own surprise, that she would miss him. Despite his arrogance, his seeming unfeelingness, his sharp tongue and deliberate cruel words; despite it all, she could recognize the good in him. The capacity to have compassion was slowly revealing itself to her through the subtlety of his actions. In his own unique way he was opening up his heart to kindness and all its possibilities. She was proud of him, to be sure.

Evelyn had just reached Loki's cell for their daily session. The young guard, Treasach, was on duty. Evelyn had stopped acknowledging him after he had called her a strumpet all those months ago upon seeing her leave his cell. He was a mean-spirited kind of man, quick to judge and carrying himself with an aura of self-importance. He sneered at her as she passed him, but she ignored his gaze.

Her messenger bag was exceptionally heavy that day due to the fact that she had brought several tomes from Loki's library with her. For the past four months Loki had complained consistently about the intolerable boredom he encountered day to day. He had been denied all luxuries, including books. Evelyn, for one, found that a bit excessive. Sometimes it was more dangerous to be alone with your thoughts.

She had brought her concern to the council but they had refused to permit Loki any kind of liberties. It was all a bit overly dramatic to Evelyn. So, against her better judgement, she had decided to smuggle a few books into Loki's cell to distract him and keep him occupied throughout the long days. After four months of isolation and him being fairly well-behaved, she thought it reasonable to reward him.

Evelyn entered his room, a conspiratorial smile on her face. She had never been one for breaking rules, and going against the court's official rule could find her in a whole lot of trouble. She would never admit it to anyone, but breaking the council's rules had given her a kind of sinful thrill.

"You're looking extremely pleased with yourself this afternoon," Loki observed from where he sat by the unlit hearth. It was spring in Asgard, the equivalent of Earth's April, and the cold, crisp temperature had slowly ebbed away, now replaced by mild weather and pleasantly warm rain-showers.

Evelyn grinned, falling into her seat and pulling her bag into her lap. Loki eyed the unusually heavy bag. "I may have overstepped the limits of my authority," she mused.

Loki's brow furrowed. "What did you do?" he asked carefully.

Evelyn withdrew several heavy books, all titles that she recalled Loki mentioning at one time or another of volumes he loved best. "Look familiar?"

A scowl lit his thin lips, his emerald eyes narrowing resentfully. "I never thought you capable of such cruelty, to gloat over the beloved objects that have been denied to me but are readily accessible to you."

Evelyn frowned at him and gave him an exasperated look. "You know me better than that, Loki. I would never do that to you." She placed the books in a neat pile on the table on her lap. "They're for you."

A look of doubt crossed his stern features. "Luxuries have been forbidden to me by the courts. You know this well enough," he stated dully.

"Thus," Evelyn said, waving her hands elaborately about her, "overstepping the limits of my authority."

Realization flickered across Loki's face, and an amused grin curved his lips. "You took these without permission? For me?"

Evelyn shrugged nonchalantly.

Loki reached for the books, pulling them into his lap, his fingers gently brushing her own as she handed them to her. She quickly pulled her fingers away as a strange warmth tingled up her long digits. He intently examined the weathered covers. His long, pale fingers traced and caressed their forms with fondness. Evelyn watched him, pleased by his reaction, as he re-familiarized himself with his beloved tomes.

"Thank you," he said, his voice uncommonly soft. Then he coughed abruptly and continued in a harsher tone. "It was foolish of you. If you are found out the council will surely dismiss you."

Evelyn nodded. "It's a risk I was willing to take."

Loki stared into her eyes for a moment, and Evelyn's chest tightened under his searching gaze. He blinked twice and then averted his eyes back to the tomes. For a few minutes he casually flipped through the pages of his books, his eyes skimming across the pages with tender concentration, occasionally a small smirk gracing his lips. Evelyn's smile spread across her face at the look of boyish delight on his face. She couldn't help but feel somewhat self-satisfied with her success.

"I hope you have been treated well," Loki said abruptly. "I hope no one has been making these past few weeks difficult for you."

Evelyn hummed appreciatively. Loki had, astonishingly, been concerned with how she would be treated by the Asgardians following the accusation made against her. She got her fair share of dirty looks from people, but, overall, no one had been overly cold towards her. In any case, it didn't matter to her what people thought of her, so long as her slate was rightfully clean and the truth was known to all who cared to hear it.

"Your father has been especially kind to me these past few weeks. He's been extremely… accommodating." She said thoughtfully. Odin's kindness towards her had been unexpected, but when the court had come after her with the accusations he had been one of her most adamant supporters. He had been outraged. In fact, Evelyn was fairly certain that, had it not been for Odin's interest in protecting her good name, she would have been in a prison cell until the court saw it fit to release her. "I am indebted to his kindness these past few weeks."

Loki reluctantly put the books aside, turning his emerald gaze on her and cocking his head. He appeared to be both thoughtful and troubled. "Odin is fiercely loyal to those he cares most about. You are lucky to be in his favour." The darkening look in his eye informed Evelyn of his anger towards Odin. His mood always soured when she spoke of his father.

"You do know that he cares dearly about you, Loki. I know the story of your adoption. He saved your life."

Loki scowled at her. "I was a means to an end; a necessary investment to fortify his political supremacy."

Evelyn shook her head. "You are too hard on him. He loves you, and he now he is old and weary. Do you honestly think that he wants to be at odds with his son?"

"I am _not _his son," he growled, eyes flashing.

"You are indeed his son. He raised you, cared for you, loved you."

"He has not come to see me. It has been ten months since last I saw him, from the day of my sentencing in the courts."

"He knows you do not want to see him," Evelyn said softly.

"I don't," Loki affirmed, his tone spiteful.

"So why do you blame him for not coming? He doesn't want to anger you," Evelyn countered. "He loves you."

Loki's lips thinned, his eyes flaring with frustration. "He does not love me."

"You won't let him love you."

"How is this my fault?" he snapped, rising to his feet in anger. "You blame me for my father's actions; for his paternal negligence? I did not ask to be his son! I do not ask him now to love me as his son!"

Evelyn swallowed uncertainly, struggling to calm her erratic heart beat as the tall, imposing god stood above her, glaring at her with a startling degree of hatred that she had not seen from him in a long while.

"A relationship necessitates the involvement of two willing parties. Odin is willing, but he is waiting on you to rise up and meet him. All you need is to give the word and I will arrange for Odin to come to you."

Loki's fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his emerald eyes glazing over as distant thoughts and emotions flickered across his mind. "If he sees me here and what I've been reduced to he'll only become more disappointed than he already is with me. I am tired of feeling as if all that I am good for is disappointing people."

Evelyn shook her head and stood. Without thinking, she took one of his clenched fists into both of her warm hands. His cold fingers loosened beneath her touch and his raging green eyes calmed as they looked upon her with confusion.

"You aren't a disappointment, Loki. Odin is disappointed with himself. He's your father, the man who raised you, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. Don't you think that he torments himself with blame for not properly guiding you, for undervaluing you and causing you to turn away from him? He faults himself for your fall from grace."

Loki swallowed, and Evelyn lowered her eyes from his, following the bobbing motion of his pronounced Adam's apple. "Give him another chance," she whispered quietly, looking down at his hand clasped in hers. She timidly traced her thumb over his cold knuckles, learning the hills and grooves of his large hand. His skin was like ice in her hand. Carefully, Loki withdrew his hand from between hers, his eyes intent on her. Evelyn felt herself blush, realizing her .

"It's too late for reconciliation," he said stoically, stepping a pace back to put distance between them. Evelyn swallowed back her pride, feeling offended, _though she had no right to be_, she scolded herself.

"It's never too late. Just try. Please," she urged softly. He looked unconvinced. "For Frigga's sake, if not for yours," Evelyn said sternly, playing her cards like the pro she was.

The tall, lean god exercised his pronounced jaw for a moment. She saw in his expression that he was relenting. "I cannot promise that anything will come of it. It is unlikely my father and I could ever resolve our quarrels…" he said, his voice trailing off.

"All I ask is that you make the effort," Evelyn said, carefully resuming her seat. Loki turned his gaze away from her, clasping his arms behind his broad back. She watched him furrow his brow and lick his lips before sitting down across from her once again. Evelyn could tell that he was someplace else. She didn't want to disrupt his thoughts so she left him to his silent ponderings for several drawn out minutes.

"So," she spoke up, after some time, "Thor sent another dispatch of the Royal Guard to survey the borders of Asgard for anomalies. They haven't been able to find anything yet."

"I will be the first to admit that Odin's boundaries are some of the strongest across the realms. They're impenetrable force fields," he said curtly.

"Force fields?" Evelyn inquired.

"Yes; constructed with magic. Only an extremely powerful sorcerer could compromise it and deaden the magic without being detected."

Evelyn nodded. "How can you be sure this boundary doesn't just contain a fatal flaw? Maybe something was overlooked," she pressed.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he beheld her with a disdainful look. "I _created _them," he said with an air of self-importance. Evelyn gaped, suprised. Loki frowned at her expression of disbelief. "I do not make mistakes. You forget how powerful I am, Miss McPherson. You do not know the real me. You only know a particular version of me, one where my reduced circumstances include the prohibition of my powers. I am otherwise quite the seasoned sorcerer."

Evelyn's mind recollected the events that had transpired nearly a year ago when Loki had reined terror in New York City, destroying buildings and property and families. His mad rampage had only been withheld thanks to the efforts of the Avengers Initiative. Evelyn's brow furrowed at the painful memory, but Loki had changed since then. She was certain of it now. His improvements were incontrovertible.

"Yes, so I recall," she said quietly. "I have not forgotten the extent of your powers, Loki. Nor the devastation and destruction that have resulted from them," she said coolly.

Loki scowled at her, but Evelyn's gaze did not waver.

"You've changed since then," she said.

His gaze softened somewhat, his rigid posture slackening. Evelyn noticed for the first time the dark circles cradling his rich, green eyes. He looked utterly exhausted—defeated, even. He gave her a long look but did not deny her words.

"Perhaps. But I am not redeemed," he said in a low voice, mostly to himself.

"No. Not redeemed. I don't know if you can ever be redeemed," she said softly, but with honesty. Evelyn had always upheld her policy of honesty. She would never lie or sugar-coat the truth. Her clients were people hardened by heinous crimes. If they could hold a gun to someone's head and shoot, then they could certainly handle the truth of their realities, be it hopeful or disheartening.

Loki looked away from her. "I thought you said that I could be a better man?" he asked somewhat sneeringly.

Evelyn nodded. "You will be. In fact, I've already witnessed the change of your character. But the traces of the man that you once were will not be so easily forgotten. You need to prove to me—to everyone," she added quickly, "that you are determined to make right the wrongs you've committed."

Loki frowned. "I'm not so sure that I want to," he said.

Evelyn frowned deeply at that. "Why are you so determined to be your own enemy?" she inquired, frustrated.

Loki scowled at her, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Why are you so determined to support me?" he snapped back defensively. "Everyone else is content to leave me locked away from the world," he said sullenly.

Evelyn's delicate brow knitted in confusion. "I have an obligation to you and your family and I will not let you sabotage your chances of rejoining the world. This room cannot contain you Loki. You have a chance to be better, to remake yourself. I won't let you waste an opportunity that good."

When next he turned his emerald gaze upon her, Evelyn felt her very breath catch in her throat. His eyes were nearly black with denial and frustration. She realized that he didn't believe in himself as much as she did him, and that notion angered her.

"How can you be so forgiving? I have wronged you and your precious Midgardians in every conceivable way. You have every reason to despise me, yet you time and time again give me the benefit of the doubt. You brush off my harsh words, you ignore my cruel nature, and you show me kindness that is not due." His face contorted with frustration. "I feel that I do not deserve the countless chances you have granted me. I treat you poorly most of the time and yet you take it in stride. You always come back to me," he breathed softly, his gaze penetrating hers, pinning her where she sat. Even if she had wanted to move, the intensity of his eyes would not allow it. She was held captive by those wise, tormented eyes. "Why do you always come back?" he asked, his voice deepening, his gaze unwavering.

Evelyn breathed slowly through her mouth. It was a shallow, shuddering breath. "I see the good within you," she replied, her words equally soft but certain. "I'm resolved to help you and the world see it too."

Loki did not blink, but his frown deepened. "You frustrate me."

Evelyn bit her bottom lip, chewing it nervously. She didn't know why her heart was beating at such an impossibly rapid pace, and why she was contemplating how lovely his gem-like green eyes were. They were infinite, an endless reservoir of private memories, both happy and distressing.

"I don't mean to…" she said quietly.

When he said nothing in reply and instead continued to watch her, she anxiously checked her watch. Their session was just about over, much to her relief. Smoothing out her jeans with her lightly trembling hands—she hoped he did not notice—she rose from her seat.

"Well, I hope you'll enjoy those books. I went out on a limb to get them for you," she said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood, to breach the heavy silence that was weighing down on them.

Loki rose as well. "Miss McPherson," he said, his voice was steady and sure, and Evelyn was jealous of his ability to maintain a seemingly calm and unaffected façade.

"Yes?" she asked, warily looking up at him through her lashes.

He seemed to pause before he met her gaze with his own, a gaze imbued with purpose and meaning and intention and certainty. "I want—," but he suddenly choked on the phrase, coughing in a poor attempt to cover up his blunder. He quickly averted his penetrating gaze to the floor. "That is," he ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. "Tomorrow is your day off, is it not?" he asked finally, curtly.

Evelyn observed him carefully for a moment, her eyes narrowed. There was something else he had meant to say. She was curious as to what might have caused him to stumble so for words. It was very unlike him. "Yes. Why?"

"No reason," he said with a shake of his head. "Have a nice evening."

"Thanks."

The two of them stood there, facing each other, their eyes averted. Evelyn's stomach was a twisted knot of anxiety, nerves and discomfort. The tension between them was painfully awkward as they stood in silence. This had never happened between them before. The air around them was laced with threat, the threat of what Loki's almost-words might have been and the impact they would have had on both of them had he chosen to articulate them.

Suddenly, Evelyn did not want to know what he had been about to say. A little voice in her head was warning her that once a certain line was crossed, it could never be undone. She suspected that Loki's stumble had more to do with the gravity of what he had been about to say concerning what he _wanted_.

The room was suddenly stifling.

"Goodbye, Loki," she mumbled quickly, refusing to meet his gaze. She retrieved her bag from the floor, set her glasses right upon her nose, and scurried out of the room, desperate to put as much distance as possible between herself and Loki.

OOOOO

Evelyn made her way down the large corridor in the main hall dressed in a pair of jeans and a loose-fitting, black t-shirt. Sif was going to take her out to the market since it was her day off. She'd had trouble sleeping the previous night because she was feeling guilty about how she and Loki had parted. She had been a coward, afraid to hear what he had meant to say for fear that it would change their dynamic. He was her client, and she was there to listen to him. How she felt did not play into the set-up they had. She was there for_ him,_ and she should have encouraged him to complete his thought.

She found Sif in the courtyard with Hogun. They were practicing sword-fighting and she clearly had the upper hand. Sif must have seen her over Hogun's shoulder because, as was in her character, she performed an elaborate, and seemingly effortless, sequence of blows, feints and dodges leaving a panting Hogun on ground, blade at his neck. Sif was a shameless show-off, but she wasn't obnoxious about it, more entertaining than anything else.

Before Sif could utter a word of welcome, a shrill wailing exploded in their ears. It was a loud whine that left Evelyn dizzy. Sif's eyes widened fearfully as she yanked Hogun off the ground.

"What is that?" Evelyn asked, clasping her hands over her assaulted ears.

"The Alarm," Hogun said, drawing a second sword from a sheath on his left hip.

Evelyn's eyes went wide with trepidation. "Alarm?"

Sif grabbed a spare blade from the grass, walking steadily towards her, her pretty face set into hard lines of concentration as warrior instincts took over. "The Alarm goes off when hostiles enter the boundaries."

"Hostiles?" Evelyn asked worriedly.

"Enemies of the King," Sif said, thrusting the spare blade she'd retrieved under Evelyn's nose. Evelyn looked at the sword dumbly. "Take it!" she snapped. "Use it to defend yourself only. Remember what I taught you—breathe, find your centre, awareness, and block. Do _not_ attack if you can help it. Got it?" she demanded in a commanding tone.

Evelyn shakily took the sword from her. It was incredibly heavy, weighing her arms down. It was too long for her body and felt awkward in her small hand. "Where are you going?"

"To survey the perimeter," she said. "Find Thor, he'll keep you safe," Sif said stiffly. Evelyn stood there, unmoving as the weight of the blade anchored her to the ground, the shrill wail of the Alarm sending her balanced centre off kilter.

Sif snapped at her, waking her from her state of disorientation. "GO!"

With that, the three friends ran off in opposite directions—Sif and Hogun towards the perimeter breach and Evelyn towards the palace entrance where she had last seen Thor. She ran through the corridors of the castle, searching for the blonde prince. The interior of the castle was in a state of uproar—confused and frightened personnel stumbled in one disorganized mass down the corridor in search of refuge, and Asgardian guards ran up and down in a small units, barking orders, weapons readily clasped tightly in their hands.

Somehow, in the chaos, she managed to snag the shoulder of one of the maids darting past, eyes frantic. The maid looked at her, eyes wide with fear.

"Where's Thor?" Evelyn asked.

"Throne room," the maid said quickly before taking off once again and disappearing into the crowd.

Evelyn hurried along, the blood pounding loudly in her ears as she focused on avoiding various collisions with terrified Asgardians. It was sheer fear and determination that saw her finally reach the throne room doors. The guards were not standing dutifully outside as usual. Mustering all the strength she had, Evelyn threw her body against the impossibly heavy, twenty foot tall bronze doors. They protested under her weight, but with painful deliberateness opened up for her.

Relief flooded through her when her gaze fell on Thor, Odin and Frigga, as well as a collection of several other guards. They were all deep in conversation at the opposite end of the long room. Thor, however, turned at the sound of the doors opening. Evelyn marched towards them, resolved to help in any way that she could.

"Evie!" Thor exclaimed as she jogged towards them across the massive room. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his handsome face frowning with worry.

"Sif sent me to you. What can I do to help?" she asked, tightening her grip on the blade in her hands.

"Frost Giants have entered the city. It's only a matter of time before they penetrate into the palace. You must go to safety with my mother. It's too dangerous for you here. We will handle this," he said authoritatively.

"But I can help!" Evelyn protested.

Odin turned his gaze on the brave mortal woman. "You can help by staying with my wife and comforting him throughout the length of this skirmish. Their force is relatively small. We will overcome them."

Evelyn bit her lip, but she couldn't argue with a king. "Very well," she relented.

Just as she lowered her blade, tip touching the floor, the unexpected happened. A thunderous crash echoed through the room as every single one of the grand scale, stained glass windows shattered in around them, like a lethal rain shower. The sharp-edged fragments of glass reflected the sun's light and for a brief moment it was a beautiful thing to behold, like drops of fire falling from the sky, but then the fire burned. Evelyn gasped in pain as the shards embedded themselves into the soft flesh of her arms, tangling in her hair and marring her face.

Everyone had attempted to protect themselves from the onslaught. Most were fine, but others, like Evelyn, who had been standing beneath a window, were a little bloodier than the rest. When the last glass shard hit the ground, its shrill echo resonating through the otherwise still room, a loud roar slowly built around them, and then a cascade of inhumanly large, blue creatures were swarming through the windows of the throne room, weapons bared and crimson red eyes hungry for blood.

**Tehehe…my first cliff-hanger. My apologies, I know how frustrating those can be. If you guys hate it too much then I won't do it again (only if absolutely necessary). Leave a review! I love me some feedback.**

**Much love, faithful readers :)**


	11. The Workings of a Gentle Hand

**Oh wow, you guys are the absolute best. Your comments are a real boost to my writer insecurities. I seriously want to reach into the screen and somehow hug every single one of you. Just because you guys are seriously amazing and I don't know how else to thank you, here's a little shout out to the kind words of: A Pirate By Any Other Name; Ella; ; Apples10; Guest; and Loki'sTimeLady. Virtual hugs to you all :)**

**And without further ado…**

11: The Workings of a Gentle Hand

Evelyn hardly had a chance to reorient herself when a good two dozen Frost Giants spilled through the throne room windows, their eyes hungry for murder. She likely would have stood there, immobile and gaping like a shell-shocked soldier had Thor's deep, bellowing voice, not rallied her to her senses.

"To arms!' he cried fiercely. "To arms!"

The Frost Giants launched themselves at the small Asgardian force collected in the room. The guards dutifully rushed forward to break their line and defend the King and Queen until they could be taken to safety. Evelyn instinctively raised her own sword. There were so many fears and doubts rushing through her mind, doubt and disbelief most predominantly. In a state of semi-panic, she began making futile attempts to rationalize the probabilities of survival or injury.

Thor's war cry, a guttural, animalistic sound, distracted her from her ill-timed thoughts. She watched in awe as he effortlessly swung Mjolnir from left to right in great sweeping arcs, sending the towering Frost Giants flying across the room and slamming into walls with bone-shattering force.

"Right," she mumbled under her breath, and turning off her the logical, problem-solving part of her, lunged into battle alongside Thor and his guards.

She was by no means a skilled swordfighter, nor was her technique carefully polished, despite the basic training she had undergone under Sif's orders. _Stay on the defense. Do not attack_, she thought, recalling Sif's words from only minutes before. Scanning the small battle, Evelyn was relieved to see that the guards and the Frost Giants looked equally matched, perhaps even gaining the upper hand over the blue-skinned fiends.

Her eyes found Thor, who was being assailed by three Frost Giants. He released an agitated cry when one of the giants grabbed his bicep. Evelyn watched, horror-struck, as Thor's tanned flesh burned an unseemly blue, as if the touch of the Frost Giant had charred his flesh. Anger boiled in her blood and she ran towards her outnumbered friend.

One of the Frost Giants spotted her out his peripheral and grinned sadistically as she swung her heavy sword towards him with both of her clammy hands. In an effortless motion, the Frost Giant's blade rose to meet hers. The resulting clang resonated loudly, and the vibrations from the powerful impact raced up her arms, momentarily numbing them. She could practically feel her teeth knocking together from the blow.

"What a brave little girl," he sneered as he lunged at her. Evelyn instinctively rolled away, recalling her self-defence training with Natasha, as the Giant's swing imbedded the sword into the ground where she had just stood. There wasn't time to applaud her quick thinking because the heinous creature roared angrily and yanked the sword from the ground, spinning to face her yet again. He looked murderous, and Evelyn's heart began to thud fearfully in her chest.

"It seems that you have a death wish, little girl," he sneered, advancing on her. Evelyn stumbled backwards, unable to tear her eyes from his blood-red pupils. He licked his chapped black lips, glaring down at her from his far superior height. "One that I am only too happy to fulfill."

He swung his blade at her again. Evelyn parried it, arms trembling under the force. She blinked back tears. The muscles in her arms protested with a burning weariness, a combination of the weight of the too-heavy sword and the force of the Frost Giant's merciless blows. His next strike knocked her onto her bum and her sword from her hand. Her glasses flew from her face, which severely impaired her vision. She quickly scrambled to her feet, retrieving her blade, before he could impale her with his massive sword. Desperately she squinted about her in search of her oversized spectacles, all the while trying to keep an eye on the Frost Giant looming several feet in front of her.

"No one's going to save you now," it hissed sneeringly. "Not even your dear little prince sitting in his tower. I'd love to see the traitor perish," he said, his tone one of loathing. "But no, it's high time he really suffered. And now he'll watch, helpless, while his precious city burns."

Evelyn was shaken by his words, but she had no time to properly consider them so, committing them to long term memory, she raised her sword before her, waiting and watching, terrified as the monster advanced on her.

The Frost Giants, she noticed, had a notably barbaric method of fighting. There was no grace to their movements, nor thought or consideration. They merely attacked with brutal force, like butchers trying to hack meat. Her body was quaking with pain and she knew that her strength was quickly being drained by the sheer force of the Frost Giant's assaults. She wasn't cut out for a battle field.

"It's time to end your miserable existence," the Frost Giant sneered. Raising his sword above his head, he brought it hurtling down towards her. With a small squeal of terror, Evelyn planted her feet and threw her sword above her head breaking the blow. All the breath left her lungs upon impact and, despite her already impaired vision, the room around her began to shift unsteady and restless like waves lapping the shore. The sword came down again, and Evelyn's arms seared with pain, her elbows drooping in agony. When he brought his blade down for a third time, she gritted her teeth and shut her eyes.

The sword fell lamely from her numb, trembling fingers, clattering noisily to the ground. Her quivering arms screamed in pain. She collapsed to her knees, no longer able to hold up her small body, and bowed her head, resigned to feel to life-severing impact of his final blow. Just to her left she spotted her glasses. She could have laughed at the cruelty of it, as if some greater power was forcing her to clearly watch as a monstrous giant took her life. With trembling fingers she slid them onto her face.

"Evie!"

Wearily, Evelyn raised her head, searching for the source of the voice. The world around her was blurry, even with the glasses.

"Time to die," the Frost Giant cooed in a sickeningly saccharine voice. "It'll be a shame to sever such a pretty little head, but worth it when I leave it at Loki's doorstep."

Evelyn blinked back tears of defeat as he brought his sword over his head.

"NO!" roared a furious voice.

Through the vision impairing tears, Evelyn saw a glorious blond-haired man throw his hammer with fierce precision at her executioner. A sickening crunch preceded the collapse of the Frost Giant's lifeless body. Evelyn could not be bothered to feel relief. She was _burning_. Everywhere. Her exhausted body slumped limply to the ground.

Several seconds later, she was scooped up into powerful arms and cradled against an equally strong chest. "Thor," she breathed, her lungs burned with the effort of speech, her throat completely dried out.

"Don't speak, Evie. I'm bringing you some place safe until this is over," he said reassuringly.

Evelyn didn't reply, but her head fell limply over his arm. Slowly, through the pain, she became aware of her bleeding arms from the shattered glass. _I almost forgot_, she though through the dizzying haze clouding her mind.

Before he removed her from the throne room she dared to glance back. Her stomach twisted, sickened by the sight of blood-stained marble, and mangled bodies, both blue and otherwise, strewn across the floor. She resisted the urge to vomit as the throne room doors shut soundly behind her not soon enough. Evelyn closed her eyes. When next she opened them, Thor had just stepped into Loki's cell.

"Loki. Help me," he pleaded, stumbling into the room with Evelyn in his arms.

Loki, who had been watching the small rebellion unfolding in Asgard from his little window, spun at the sound of his brother's entrance. His emerald eyes, previously coloured with hatred and frustration, quickly filled with concern and debilitating anger at the sight of Evelyn's sagging body in his brother's thick arms.

Evelyn was still not entirely coherent, but as she struggled to overcome the dimness in her mind and ignore the searing pain that seemed to be everywhere at once, she became aware of her body being exchanged to a new set of arms. She closed her eyes, sighing against the soothing coldness of the new presence. All too soon, the refreshing coldness was gone and she found herself lying on a soft, downy bed. She blinked away the remainder of the haze that had clouded her perception.

"What happened to her?" Loki demanded; his low voice made deeper by the resentment that was detectable behind it.

"Loki?" Evelyn mumbled, her chocolate brown eyes blinking back the misty tears that were obscuring her vision as she sought him out.

"I'm right here," he said gently. She felt a shock race through her body when her gaze met a pair of sharp green eyes.

"She came to the throne room when the Alarm sounded. There was no time to send her to safety. They were upon us moments later," Thor explained, turning his gaze to Evelyn who was struggling to sit up, overly-eager to reorient herself.

The motion was too quick for her and she began to lean precariously sideways over the edge of the bed. A cool hand shot out, gripping her shoulder tightly and holding her steady. "Easy," Loki chided, his eyes searching her face for traces of what, she did not know.

"Why did you bring her to me?" Loki demanded, his cool, firm grip still holding her shoulder. She leaned into him. Evelyn found herself strangely comforted by his presence, using his strength to restore some modicum of her own.

"It seemed the safest place. Everyone I trust to administer to her is currently fighting off the rebels or has taken shelter in the underground."

Loki nodded, his face devoid of emotions. "I see."

"This fight is not yet won. I must go," Thor said stiffly. He glanced between Evelyn's form, slumped against Loki's grip, and back at his brooding younger brother. "Watch her," Thor said. It was an order, not a request.

The black-haired god nodded, his grip on Evelyn's shoulder tightening. "Of course."

Thor stepped towards Evelyn and Loki promptly released her when the blonde demi-god gripped either of her shoulders, pushing her back against the pillows. Thor's handsome, blue-eyed face filled her vision, his expression one of compassion and admiration. "You are very brave, Evie. I will return. For now, rest," he said soothingly. He leaned over the bed and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. With a curt nod to his brother, Thor flew from the room, the fire of battle flaring in his eyes.

Before Thor was completely gone from the room, Loki had already begun assessing her wounds, inspecting the medium-sized, bloodied gashes decorating her otherwise porcelain skin. He lightly touched a fairly large piece of glass that was embedded in her arm; there were another dozen just like it. Evelyn winced, instinctively pulling away from his scrutinizing touch. But Loki held fast, arresting her attempt to draw away from him.

"How did this happen?" he asked, his voice stern.

Evelyn licked her dry lips, looking up at Loki whose own gaze was preoccupied counting the glass shards he could visibly see protruding from her bleeding wounds.

"They came through the windows—showered glass everywhere," she replied. "Ouch!"

Loki had pulled one of the shards from her skin during her momentary distraction, but the wound promptly began to bleed. He frowned, his eyes briefly darting to her face apologetically. "Don't move. I'll fetch some medical tape. Give me a moment" he said, disappearing from the bedside and, presumably, into his washroom to retrieve said tools.

Evelyn closed her eyes and sighed as the pain that had been overridden by adrenaline rapidly made its presence known. It was as if a dozen little daggers had nicked her skin. She laboriously propped herself up against the head board, using her feet to push her weary body. Her eyes landed on the sword that had been thrown haphazardly to the foot of the bed. She bent forward at the waist, cringing as her muscles protested and grabbed its hilt, dragging it up the bed and into her lap.

She absently ran her fingers lightly along the cold steel surface, unsure of whether to resent the blade for nearly killing her with its overwhelming weight, or to praise it for prolonging her life just long enough for Thor to save her. The flat of the blade flashed in the afternoon sunlight. She squinted, and then looked intently at her reflection. There were several minor cuts marring her face and her hair was disastrous. Her complexion was pale—ghostlike and drawn. She looked away, at least a few cuts was the extent of the damage her mortal body had incurred.

Loki walked back, muttering to himself, as he rummaged through the collection of first aid supplies that he had crammed into his arms. "There's an antiseptic salve and linen… I assume that mortals use these as well? There are pins to secure the bindings… a few herbs for scarring…"

His voice trailed off when his eyes landed on the sight of Evelyn sitting up, holding the massive blade in her small hands. It was positively ludicrous, the disproportionate size of the weapon in comparison to Evelyn's small frame. His stern expression turned evermore sterner.

"Put that down before you maim yourself!" he snapped, marching towards her, his stride heavy beneath the weight of his irritation. Evelyn's mouth popped open when he dropped the supplies at the foot of the bed and roughly snatched the sword from her hands, tossing it onto the nearby chair. "Are you trying to kill yourself?" he snapped, sitting angrily beside her legs and pulling the parcel of supplies into his lap. His emerald eyes were nearly black and the motions of his fingers were rough as they retrieved linen wrappings and several herbs she was unfamiliar with.

"I know how to use a sword," Evelyn huffed, indignant. "I'm not incompetent."

Loki scowled at her, taking her warm hand in his cold one and extending her arm so as to inspect the gashes. Evelyn felt herself shiver at the contrast in body temperature. "You realize how poorly matched that blade is with you? I'm surprised you didn't fall over from the imbalance."

"It was all that was available at the moment," she said defensively, glaring back at him. "Besides, it saved my life."

"Thor saved your life," Loki retorted. There was bitterness laced in his words. He yanked her arm with unnecessary force.

"Ow!" she cried, tears burning her eyes.

Loki's grip on her hand loosened, slackening her arm, but his gaze was intent on her injuries. Evelyn followed his gaze and saw six fairly sized fragments of glass protruding from the flesh. She paled at the sight of her dripping blood. "Goodness," she sighed, looking away.

Loki frowned. "You must permit me to remove the glass. It will cause infection if you wait for a physician," he reasoned, meeting her gaze when she turned to look at him. There was a no-nonsense aura to his composure and Evelyn reluctantly nodded, granting him her permission.

He leaned over her, examining the first shard of glass, and pinched it between his thumb and index. Evelyn winced as the shard shifted beneath her skin. She bit her lip to prevent herself from whimpering when he tugged the fragment free of her flesh. Tears stung her eyes as Loki made quick work of wiping away the blood, applying a disinfecting salve and taping gauze over the wound.

His hands were oddly gentle as they went about administering to her, and more than once Evelyn caught herself observing his face as he leaned over her, bringing his head dangerously close to her own. Her eyes appraised his endearing frown of concentration, his thoughtfully pursed lips, and his enchanting, bright green eyes. She quickly averted her gaze to avoid embarrassment whenever he would shift positions, afraid that he would notice her blatant staring. How would she explain to him that she was contemplating his handsome face, his uncharacteristic gentleness and concern for her?

Her head was a chaotic mass of troubling thoughts, and her stomach had equally been worked into a twisted knot of conflict and uncertainty. Loki's tongue briefly wet his lips, but his concentration never strayed from her wounds. Evelyn swallowed back the urge to touch his sculpted, defined jaw, to trace the crook of his nose with her fingertips, to learn the arc of his pronounced Adam's apple. Shaking her head, she forced herself to turn her gaze away from him. Never before had she felt so overwhelmed by his presence—she attributed it to her current state of distress. Any other reason for entertaining such dangerous thoughts about her client would be far too unprofessional to even consider.

The half hour that followed was a deliberate and painful process in which Evelyn kept her head (mostly) turned away, counting the threads of the bed sheet to distract her from her perturbing thoughts. Loki worked quickly and meticulously, and she appreciated his effort to get the messy business over and done with as soon as possible. Her arms were the worst of it; her clothing having protected her from incurring other wounds. Her cheeks were only slightly scratched, but that was minor. She had applied the salve herself to those herself, merely spotting them with dollops of the soothing cream. By the end of it, Loki's fingers were coated with her blood and Evelyn felt herself swaying dizzily.

"Thank you," she sighed, trying to avoid his gaze, when he returned from the washroom, hands showing no traces of the red blood that had previously stained them.

Loki looked down at her, his expression thoughtful. "It was the least I could do," he said quietly, intently examining her appearance as if to appraise his work. "How do you feel?" he inquired, his eyes never straying from her.

Evelyn shifted uneasily beneath his penetrating scrutiny. "Sore," she admitted, chewing her lip nervously. "A little light-headed," she added. "But the salve is really soothing."

Loki nodded standing stiffly beside her. His shoulders were tensed and he looked uncomfortable, as he distractedly rubbed his hands together. He abruptly began to stride towards his window, peering out over the city below.

"How does it look?" Evelyn asked, sweeping her legs around and touching her feet to the floor. She wasn't one to linger on pain, she preferred persevering through it rather than allowing it to subdue her. With a grimace, she slid to her feet, clutching the bed post for balance, and shuffled towards the window.

The sound of shuffling stirred Loki's attention and he glanced over his shoulder at her, frowning at the sight of her form hobbling towards him. "What are you doing?" he demanded sharply, stepping towards her to steady her, his cool fingers firmly gripping her upper arm.

"I just wanted to see," she replied, shivering at the sensation of Loki's fingers pressing into her flesh. It unsettled her how he could make her feel both secure and intimidated at the same time. It was a strange binary, but somehow he managed to disarm her with it.

"There's nothing to see," he chided when she stubbornly tugged against his grip. He gingerly released her and Evelyn stumbled slightly, but she righted herself instantly and peered outside the small, circular window. She gasped at the sight the stretched before her.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes skimming across the city. Several homes were emitting black smoke from presumable fires. The streets were bare, but Evelyn could see units of the guard jogging down in small dispatches. They were so high up in that tower that it was difficult to see what lay below clearly, but she could have sworn that she could see spots of mangled blue dotting the streets nearest to the palace—dead Frost Giants.

"Frost Giants happened," Loki said bitterly. "The Royal Guard will clear up the mess and the necessary repairs will be made. As of now it would appear that everything is under control

Evelyn nodded slowly. "They were terrifying," she said quietly, tearing her eyes from the window and turning to face Loki. She was taken aback by how close he stood, not a foot away from her. "It was their eyes—red like blood," she shivered involuntarily, recalling the beady, bloodthirsty eyes of the Frost Giant who she had fought and nearly lost her life to.

"My kin are a barbaric race, it is true," he said, his gaze darkening with resentment.

Evelyn frowned at him. "I don't mean you when I say they were terrifying. You know that I don't think you're a monster," she said quickly, afraid to offend him when he had shown her naught but kindness.

Loki shook his head, lifting his head to look out the window behind her. "I know what you think, but you're wrong. I have Jotun blood in my veins, and when the time comes that that side of me chooses to reveal itself I will be powerless to it and you will come to doubt the truth of the words you have just spoken to me."

"Loki—

But the tall, brooding god interrupted her. "Let us not speak of it anymore. You are clearly exhausted. You shouldn't be exerting yourself," he said, his tone empty.

Evelyn considered his words for a moment. He clearly was in no mood to talk so she wouldn't pressure him into unwilling conversation. "I suppose you're right." She began to walk in the direction of her wingback chair, but her muscle protested with each movement. Her face scrunched into an expression of agony, but she was determined to get there unassisted.

Loki, apparently, had other ideas. Evelyn stiffened when his strong arm slipped gingerly around her waist, holding her securely beneath the arms. Her head turned sharply to meet his gaze, but it was directed straight ahead, his eyes dark as he frowned. Before she could protest, his arm tightened around her and he began to walk forward, forcing Evelyn to fall into measured step with him. When her thighs began to quake with fatigue, she would have crumpled to the floor if not for Loki's steadying grip around her upper back. The last few steps were painful but Loki delivered her successfully to the chair. He shifted his arm slightly and carefully lowered her onto the seat.

Then she fell back.

It was wholly ungraceful, but her trembling muscles abruptly went limp beneath her. In the process of the fall, Loki's arm, which had attempted to hold her steady, became pinned between her back and the chair which caused him to stumble over her. He only just managed to catch himself with his free hand on the headrest, stopping himself from crushing her beneath the weight of his own body. The whole ordeal brought Loki's face directly in front of hers, their noses brushing like intimate friends.

Evelyn released a shuddering breath as her vision swelled with all-consuming green. She couldn't see anything but the majestic emerald of his eyes hovering before her. Loki was breathing heavily, his warm breath whispering against the skin of her cheek as he stared unblinkingly back at her.

There was an emotion in his eyes. Something akin to desire and it frightened Evelyn to no end. Her body was burning beneath his strong one as he hung so near above her. She felt heat rush to her cheeks, staining her porcelain skin bright red. Loki bowed his head towards her, and whether he intended to or not, his straight nose slid slowly against her own. The motion was tantalizing and a deliciously forbidden shiver shot through her.

"Miss McPherson," he breathed, his voice deep.

Evelyn looked at him with wide, innocent doe eyes. "Yes?" she whispered nervously.

"My arm is caught."

Just like that the moment passed, and Evelyn felt incredibly foolish. Her romantic mind had run away with her, painting a narrative that had no legitimacy considering the context in which it had unravelled.

"Miss McPherson?" he asked softly. She could almost feel his lips against hers as he spoke. If either of them leaned forward, even a centimetre, she knew with absolute certainty that the minimal space between them would be sealed.

"Oh," she blushed even redder, averting her gaze as mortification overcame her. "I'm so sorry."

She sat up, and Loki carefully withdrew his arm from behind her. As he gradually pulled away, she could have sworn that his gaze flickered fleetingly to her lips with regret. Evelyn shook the thought from her mind. She was being ridiculous, weaving foolish, wishful ideas in her mind. _Wishful?_ She felt her body stiffen as the dangerous word rolled around her cerebrum. Wishful implied many sentiments—a longing and desire—both of which she could never allow herself to feel for Loki because of their professional relationship. She was finally making ground with him, and to recklessly tip the balance of the status quo established between them because of some naïve, ill-advised thoughts… She wouldn't think of it.

With those thoughts firmly stamped into her mind, she rose abruptly from her seat. Loki, who was still standing just in front of the chair, took a cautious step back, one quizzical eyebrow raised in question.

"Since everything appears to have quieted down, I think now would be a good time to take my leave," she announced, smoothing down her blood-stained jeans. She frowned at that—she really did love that pair, they were dark blue and a comfortable, well-worn straight-leg fit. "I should go and see if Thor needs help with anything."

She made to walk away but Loki's hand snagged her elbow. His expression was unreadable, but there was disapproval in his restless eyes. "I do not think that is advisable. Thor wanted you to stay here and await his return."

Evelyn shuffled her feet and shrugged nonchalantly. "Yes, well. Plans change, I suppose," she mumbled ambiguously. Loki's frown deepened at her words. "Besides, I really have been imposing far too much on your hospitality. It seems that after every inconvenience I find myself here," she mused. "You must be positively irritated by my intrusions."

"I'm not," Loki said in a measured tone. His certainty startled Evelyn.

In any case, it did not matter, because Thor chose that moment to let himself into Loki's cell. He looked dishevelled and exhausted. There were smears of blood across his handsome face, and his crisp blue eyes looked older, wiser, somehow.

"Evie," he said with a weary smile. "How are you holding up?" he asked, approaching the duo.

Evelyn offered a small smile. "Just fine, my injuries were superficial, really. Besides, Loki was an excellent nurse," she said lightly, refusing to look at said demi-god. "But you look a little worse for wear," she prodded. "What news?"

Thor plopped down into the seat she had just vacated. "The city is slowly crawling out of the underground bunkers. We have physicians set up at various points administering to the casualties. We lost several of our guard and three civilians," he said, his expression darkening with anger.

"Did you find the point of entry through the boundary?" Evelyn asked. Surely they must have, but that thought was quickly dashed at the grave expression that spread across Thor's face.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It has proven a challenge. They must have been concealed by magi when they crossed through the perimeter. My father is certain that it is the work of dark sorcery. A constant threat will loom over Asgard until we find the source of weakness," he intoned bitterly.

Evelyn's mind was recalling the conversation she had with Loki in the past week, about how he had been responsible for the construction of the boundary. Surely he of all people would be able to locate it? "There is a simple solution," she said, verbalizing her thoughts. Two sets of eyes turned to her; a bright blue set expressing surprise and hopefulness, and a dark green set that appeared sceptical. Evelyn glanced fleetingly at Loki, still reluctant to meet his eyes. "Have Loki examine it," she said simply.

A drawn out silence followed her statement.

Thor sat forward looking regretful. "Ideally, that would be the course of action. But," he hesitated, his eyes flickering to his brother before returning to her, "as a part of Loki's punishment his powers have been withheld. The court is bound to their decree. It has been sealed and cannot be undone until Loki's term of imprisonment expires."

"Even in the case of emergency?" Evelyn prodded.

"It is law. It cannot be undone," Thor said with quiet regret.

A perturbing, ominous feeling swept through Evelyn then. "How practical," she mused quietly, her dark eyes staring unseeingly at the wall. "Whoever has planned this siege clearly anticipated Loki's imprisonment. They must have been aware that the only hitch to their plan would be Loki's respective powers. He seems to be the only one with the ability to fix this problem."

Thor looked at her strangely. "Do you really think it was that meticulously organized?"

Evelyn shot him a tired, self-deprecating smile. "Criminology profiler, remember?" she reminded him. "I have an uncanny aptitude for detecting these things." Evelyn finally turned to meet Loki's troubled emerald gaze. "I think that whoever was involved might be trying to rouse Loki's fury. I think that they want him to mess up, to be blinded by anger and wind up incarcerated and without magic for eternity."

Loki didn't blink as he continued to stare at her. Thor shifted uneasily in the wingback chair. "How do you come to this conclusion?" he asked.

Evelyn averted her gaze quickly. "When I was fending off that Frost Giant," she paused, "he said something. I didn't think to tell either of you, but now I realize it's entirely relevant."

The sound of Loki's voice sent her heart racing. He had been quiet throughout the conversation, and she hated to admit that the sound of his smooth voice could so completely disarm her. "What did he say to you?" he asked, stepping into her line of vision.

Evelyn chewed her tongue as she organized her thoughts, which was a challenge beneath the intensity of Loki's gaze. She bravely met his stare. "He mentioned you, locked in your cell, and how you deserved to die. He called you a traitor, but said that you wouldn't be killed, instead you'd be made to suffer and watch Asgard burn," she said quietly, and Thor turned to his brother for his reaction, who was staring unseeingly at Evelyn, clearly lost in his thoughts.

That wasn't all the Frost Giant had said, and Evelyn was reluctant to talk about the fact that the Frost Giant had known exactly who she was. She would spare him the details of his threat to sever her head, but she knew that Thor needed to know that Jotunheim was staying informed of their affairs.

"There's something else," she said. "He knew who I was."

Thor frowned. "How is that possible? We've kept your presence here as quiet as possible."

"Someone must be informing them," Evelyn reasoned. "They have an agenda, and clearly causing Loki's suffering is a part of it," she said. "They'll try again," she continued, "but this time they'll be more organized. They only have two more months to accomplish their task. After that, Loki will be free," Evelyn said, levelling her gaze with Loki, who looked bothered.

"There is much to consider," Thor said thoughtfully. "You truly are a valuable asset to us, Evie. For now, you should rest in your chambers. These past few hours have been trying for you," he said, generously offering his arm to her.

Evelyn smiled appreciatively and took it. Her muscles were still aching, and she realized, with a yawn, that she was thoroughly exhausted.

"Goodbye, brother," Thor said.

Loki scowled at him but said nothing.

Thor frowned. "I know you must blame yourself for what has happened, but do not. You are not to be blamed."

Loki just nodded stiffly, carefully lowering himself onto his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. For a moment Evelyn considered staying with him, but she thought better of it. The way he'd made her feel in the past hour or so was disconcerting and she was afraid to be alone with him while those emotions were still occupying her thoughts.

Thor graciously led her from the room. Before the door shut behind them, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder.

And saw green.

He was staring at her, watching her, with such intensity that her chest tightened anxiously, her breath coming up short. She couldn't blink, couldn't bring herself to sever the impossibly strong connection pulling her to him. The door abruptly shut in her face, violently severing the connection, and inflicting sensory whiplash. Releasing a shuddering breath, Evelyn hobbled back to her room, leaning on Thor's supportive frame the entire way.

**So, that was exceptionally long…I liked it. Let me know how you found it :)**

**PLEASE READ:**

**So, I have a question. I was considering taking this story further in such a way that, by obligation, I would have to increase the rating. This upping of the rating would be for possible explicit violence, mature themes, one, maybe two, sexual encounters (Note: I have no intention of writing gratuitous sex scenes for the sake of it; if I write them it's because they work for the character development of my plot) in future chapters—nothing too shocking, though, that's a promise. I respect that many people have delicate sensibilities about such things (as do I). I want your honest opinion as readers, and if you're averse to the idea **_**please**_** let me know. You are my readership and I value your input. This story can still work without addressing mature themes. **


	12. Fallen From Grace

**Let me just say, because it has been upsetting me this entire week: I am **_**so incredibly sorry**_** for the lengthy delay in updating. I try to update every 5-6 days, but this was the proverbial week from hell (and it will endure for the next two weeks) due to the vast amount of midterms and papers I've had to (and still have to) write. So I apologize for that. I promise to do my best to stay ahead of the next chapter and get it up sooner.**

**Your reviews were delightful to read. Every single one of them warmed me and kept me smiling throughout this past week and all its exhausting tribulations. **

***This chapter is rated higher for violence and possible language, but nothing too terribly graphic. **

12: Fallen From Grace

Loki was reclining on his bed, flipping through the well-worn pages of one of the tomes that Miss McPherson, despite the court ruling against it, had brought to him in confidence. He desperately wanted to immerse himself in the philosophical inquiry of the plot but found his mind, as it had been for the past two weeks since the attack on Asgard, preoccupied by the image of a pretty pair of brown eyes.

His attempt to read as a means of distracting himself was proving futile. With an irritated huff, he shut the book and stashed it beneath his pillow, out of sight of prying eyes. She was constantly in his thoughts as of late and it irked him. He had tried to overlook the appeal she had over his normally removed emotions, but his efforts to distance himself from her were to no avail. Whenever she was within the same room as him, his fingers itched to touch her. Her presence in his life had changed him in ways he had not thought possible. Her distress caused him distress, her injury left him livid.

He did not know what it was about her—her kindness, her vulnerability, or her naivety—whatever it was, his reason was lost to it. When Thor had brought her to his cell the day of the assault, the sight of her battered body had left him feeling sick with fury and injustice. He had wanted, so incredibly desperately, to take up that ridiculously oversized sword that Miss McPherson had used to protect herself, and storm from his room to fight, against his better judgement, alongside his brother. It was only her need to have her injuries assessed and administered to that had kept him in that cell.

It disconcerted him, how her pain had evoked such incomparable rage within him. He had never before felt so strongly for someone. Deep within his chest there was a powerful desire to protect her from unnecessary evils. But he knew that was unreasonable of him. He had no such control over her, no legitimate reason to _care_ for her to the degree that he did.

He opened his emerald eyes once more, recalling the sensation of supporting her small frame beneath his arm. She was far weaker than he, and the act of supporting her had filled his chest with pride; a sense of territorialism had swelled within him. He closed his eyes again and recalled the dangerous sensation of their noses brushing, their faces so close, those innocent, wide brown eyes tempting him, alighting within his chest an overwhelming desire to ravish her.

Loki sat up sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. These were the thoughts he tried desperately to ignore. Loki wanted her—wanted her companionship, her attention, her _affection_. This pining was fruitless, he knew, nothing of the sort could ever occur between them, not while he was her client. And in a month and a half she would be gone from his life forever. He cringed at the hollowness that descended over his stomach, a terrible emptiness at the thought of losing her companionship, a companionship that, despite his best efforts to denounce, was something he had come to value.

He cursed his sentimentality. He really had gone soft.

A sharp knocking came at his door. Loki rose from the bed as the door opened. It was Treasach. The young guard had brought him his lunch, as he often did when on duty. Loki had never cared for the youth. He was an arrogant, self-centred, entitled lad with an inclination to use violence as a means of expressing himself. Loki was no fool either, for he knew fairly well that Treasach cared very little for him. In fact, he would go so far as to say that the young guard despised him—though he wouldn't be the first to harbour such resentment for the mischievous god.

"Your lunch, princess," Treasach said with snide satisfaction as he dropped the silver platter upon the table, sending it clattering noisily.

Loki glared at the man, not moving from where he stood by his bed. They eyed each other levelly, silently challenging the other to look away first.

"You may leave now," Loki gritted out, agitation stirring in his chest.

"I'll do as I well please, sweetheart," he taunted. "I don't take orders from criminals."

A scowl lit Loki's lips then, indignant. "Your impudence does you no credit, you disgrace," Loki spat, his silver tongue assuming a life of its own. They were cruel words, to be sure, be he did not regret them.

Loki was taken aback when the young man began to laugh. It wasn't a warm sound, no, it was mirthless and cruel.

"What is that amuses you?" he asked darkly, advancing cautiously towards the guard.

"Your hypocrisy," he said shortly. Loki started at his reply. "You call me pathetic, yet here you reside, locked in this sad little hole, deprived of company and your usual entertainments. You're so desperate that you've lowered yourself to the level of a simpleton mortal man."

The rage swelling in Loki's chest threatened to explode. "What are you talking about?" he snapped.

Treasach shook his head self-importantly. "You deluded fool," he said with a shake of his head. "You've taken a mortal woman to your bed. There is nothing more degrading than that. You are no better than your brother," he snarled callously.

Several equally infuriated reactions competed with each other within him. First, to call him a fool… _The nerve_, he thought angrily. And then to compare him to his brother—for despite their rocky reconciliation he still resented much of what his brother did, what he represented. But it was neither of those injustices committed against his character that irked him to the edge of blind rage. No. It was the way he so blatantly assumed that he had ill-used Miss McPherson to satisfy his bodily appetites, to demean her and imply that her mortality made her a disgraceful choice of companion.

There was a time when he would have agreed without pausing to bat an eyelash. That time was no longer. He had changed, and yet he had not. He might still harbour dislike for mortals, but the mortal woman who was committing six months of her life to help him, as underserving as he was, to return to his place in the royal family of Asgard, was different from the rest—better, purer somehow. He would not allow an ignorant scoundrel like Treasach to speak degradations against her person.

"It would be wise," Loki said menacingly, "for you to take your leave now. You have overstayed the entails of your guardian duties."

Treasach did not stir, his bitter smile growing much to Loki's frustration.

Fists clenching and brow creasing with his effort to stay calm, he said: "Leave now, before I make you." His voice was deep, lowered with threatening promise. His patience was tried.

The guard cocked his head. "And how would you manage that? Let's consider it shall we? No magic, no weapon, oh, and let's not forget, prohibited by the codes of you sentence to misbehave. Seeing as there's only the two of us and no witness, whose account will they believe? A convicted mass murderer with aggression issues, or the victimized guard who was only performing his duty."

"You're pathetic," Loki snarled.

"That makes two of us then," Treasach replied nonchalantly. "But you're right. I should leave. I don't want to intrude when your pretty little strumpet comes to part her lovely legs for you."

The frayed thread that had been restraining Loki's anger snapped like a brittle piece of wood, reason and caution tossed carelessly to the wind as he launched himself at the guard with a roar of outrage. Both of his pale hands gripped the collar of the guard's shirt that was protruding from beneath his armour, lifting the shorter but bulkier man clean off of his booted feet. With another growl of uninhibited wrath, he threw him mercilessly into the wall where he held him, suspended. Loki seethed with unrepressed ire.

"You disgusting bastard," he snarled, slamming him again into the wall. Treasach's mouth popped open in shock, eyes going out of focus from the brute force of Loki's handling. "How dare you speak of her in such a degrading manner?" He shook him with enough force to rattle the largest, brawniest of men's bones. Adrenaline pounded through his veins like a drumbeat; enduring, resounding, and steadily driving. His body quaked with anger, each nerve ending trembling like an earthquake's epicentre.

"You've gone soft for her, haven't you?" Treasach taunted, his cold eyes finally returning to focus as he frowned distastefully at the enraged prince before him. "I suppose the mightiest of immortal men fall from the highest precipices. But you didn't stop when you hit ground. You fell right through to the flaming pit of shameful disgrace," he sneered.

Loki's nostrils flared, emerald eyes burning. He thrust the guard back into the wall, drawing back one hand in an iron fist , ready to strike him.

Treasach eyed the fist, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "I knew you wouldn't hold out on me much longer," he said levelly, his coal-black eyes locking with Loki who towered above. "You haven't really changed. You will always be a heartless, bloodthirsty bastard and traitor both to your kin and Asgard. Hit me. You know you're dying to."

Loki's fist tightened, his straight white teeth grinding together. Treasach was bringing out the worst in him. The cunning young guard knew exactly how to rile him. The overwhelming desire to beat him bloody and broken was coursing through him like searing, white-hot molten metal. He had thought he had changed, but the swiftness with which he was overcome by the violent reaction suggested otherwise. For the briefest of moments he was struck with clarity. It was short-lived, but impactful. He could not break his sentence. He recalled Miss McPherson's words: "_I think that whoever was involved might be trying to rouse Loki's fury. I think that they want him to mess up, to be blinded by anger and wind up incarcerated and without magic for eternity._"

If he so much as struck Treasach he'd end up imprisoned for the remainder of his lifetime. The courts were rooting for him to fail. Without witness, no plea of self-defence would stand in court. Loki closed his eyes briefly, the adrenaline pumping through his body dwindling, his violent fury dissipating, but the anger still simmering. He would not disappoint Miss McPherson. He would not disappoint himself.

He lowered his fist.

Treasach looked stunned when Loki released him with one last, rough shove. "You surprise me," he said with a hint of disappointment.

Loki stood taller, staring arrogantly down his straight nose at the guard. "You aren't worth my time and effort."

The younger man's nostrils flared with sudden anger. In a motion too abrupt and swift for Loki to deflect, Treasach threw a ferocious punch at his jaw, landing his meaty fist on Loki's left cheek, his head snapping to the side. Loki stumbled back a step, his face now aching dully from the blow. His green eyes darkened as he rubbed his cheek.

"Fight back, you coward," Treasach said, his voice low and deadly.

Loki ran his tongue along the back of his teeth, his gaze never straying from the guard. He would not waver in his resolve. He would not sacrifice his imminent freedom for the fleeting pleasure of beating the pompous scoundrel to within an inch of his life. He did not stir.

"Fight back!" Treasach shouted, shoving Loki in the chest. "Fight me!"

Another punch hit him in the gut, and then again. When the guard lunged for his face, he shielded himself with his forearms. It took every ounce of self-control to refrain from fighting back. The willpower it required to not rip every single one of Treasach's bodily appendages from his obscenely muscled body was infinitely more exhausting than the event of being beaten black, blue and bloody.

Loki blocked another blow to his face with an open palm, but Treasach kicked in the back of his knee, causing him to topple forward onto his left knee. He abruptly received a fist to his windpipe. Loki wheezed, knocked onto his backside, lungs screaming for air.

A steel-toed boot struck him in the chest and he gasped in pain, rolling onto his hands and knees. Another kick landed painfully in his chest, and then another, still more fierce than the last. Loki's vision spotted with black. He was aware of a painful stinging in his chest signifying what was most likely a broken rib or two. He coughed, struggling to his feet, but an elbow to his temple knocked him back to the ground, momentarily blinding him. The back of his head struck the floor and his teeth knocked together, cutting open his lip. He turned his head to spit out blood.

A moment later and he was grabbed by the collar and thrown roughly against the wall. He could have laughed at the reversal of roles, but he choked on blood instead. A rivulet of blood ran down his forehead and into the corner of his eye. The acidic fluid burned his eye, causing him to tear up. His vision blurred as he tried to make eye contact with Treasach.

"Do you feel better?" Loki asked, spitting out more rancid-tasting blood.

Treasach responded by punching him hard in the gut. Loki gasped, curling forward at the waist as his chest burned painfully. "Is that all you got," Loki breathed venomously. A blow to the face shut him up.

"It all depends on how much you can take," Treasach leered back.

Loki tried to grin, but his face was swollen and numb which made the feat a challenge. He grimaced instead. "You hit like a court elder," Loki taunted daringly. He was in no position to rile the young guard, but if he couldn't fight back, then he could surely get some kicks out of verbal sparring.

The next few minutes were an onslaught of endless, tireless assault. When the young guard slammed him into the wall one last time, he could hardly see through his hazy, half-lidded eyes. He had lost track of the number of hits he'd taken. The pain coursing through his battered body all amassed together into one sickeningly debilitating agony. He felt disgraced, undignified. He truly had plunged from grace.

For Asgard, Jotunheim, and Midgard to see him now, the mighty and monstrous god of mischief, reduced to a pitifully broken man. They would surely cheer on his imminent ruin. He deserved it after all. What was the Midgardian expression? If you give it you have to take it? Something along those lines. He couldn't really recall as his thoughts swirled and blended into an indiscernible whole.

The deliberate, drawn sound of a sword being unsheathed penetrated his muddled mind. He blinked back the haze, his clouded, emerald gaze falling on the foot-long dagger that Treasach had withdrawn. He looked from the shining blade to the black eyes of its bearer that were ablaze with sadistic pleasure. Loki swallowed back a protest. The weapon hovered between them, a death sentence waiting to be carried out. He would not beg for his life; never had he begged for anything before. He was not about to start now as he hovered on the precipice of death.

Treasach pressed the tip of the blade to his collar, carelessly nicking the skin. Loki winced. His body ached, immobilized by searing pain. "Anything to say before I run you through?"

The battered god licked his dry lips, the steely taste of blood lingering like corrosive on his tongue. He blinked his bleary eyes. For once he had nothing to say, no will to speak. He closed his eyes and large, chocolate doe-eyes swam across his vision, staring back at him, embracing him. He clung to those eyes, finding strength in their intricate depths. The tendrils of his consciousness reached towards them with desperate fervour, like the grasping fingers of a wanting babe. The large, warm eyes beckoned to him like a sweet salvation. If only he could somehow manage to hold on to them.

The tip of the dagger pressed into his left shoulder, splitting his leather garments beneath its sharp, pointed edge. Loki's breath shuddered in his chest, his head drooping forward as consciousness began to evade him. A fierce stab, an all-consuming pain, and then his world went black.

OOOOO

Evelyn ran a tired hand over her face as she ascended the spiral staircase. It was so familiar to her now that she could easily walk it with her eyes tightly shut. She was dreading the evening because it was the designated day of trans-realm communication. The last time she had spoken to Natasha had been several days following the Frost Giant attack. Needless to say that the ever-calm Black Widow had lost her renowned 'cool' upon learning that Evelyn had nearly lost her head at the hands of a Frost Giant.

"I'll kill him," she had vowed venomously.

"Kill who?" Evelyn had asked cautiously.

"Thor. He swore not a hair on your head would be touched." Her eyes had darkened with supressed anger.

After several long and tedious minutes, Evelyn had finally pacified Natasha's bitterness to the best of her ability, convincing her that is was really her own fault for walking into the midst of danger. The task had proven difficult as Natasha's mind, once determinedly set, was a difficult one to sway. They had signed off, but not without Natasha issuing a promise that should anything else happen she'd demand to be brought to Asgard in order to protect Evelyn herself, since, as she had put it: "Thor's an incompetent oaf of a demi-god whose brawn is slowly eating away at his corroding brain."

The words had been harsh, but Evelyn knew well enough that Natasha was just being protective of her. In all honesty, she wasn't averse to the idea of having Natasha as company for the next month and a half, but on the other hand she was aware that the following fifty-something odd days would be crucial for Loki's final report to the court. He needed to keep his track-record clean and undergo some major changes if he wanted to be released back to his rightful place as a respected prince of Asgard.

Evelyn was the first to admit that Loki had proved that, in his own distanced and brooding way, he could be considerate, kind even. However, those occasions had been far and few in between. She needed to crack the hard shell of his removed exterior and reveal the true, raw Loki that had been carefully concealed beneath it. He could do it. She had full confidence in him. The only doubt that she had was whether he wanted to be redeemed. In his mind, the effort would be futile, but giving up would not accomplish anything. She desperately wished that he would find it within his character to choose to strive for redemption. For now she could only hope he would persevere, and that was a hope she optimistically clung to.

Evelyn finally reached the landing of the tower. She glanced fleetingly at Treasach who was leaning casually against the wall, thick arms of sinewy muscle crossed over his massive chest. His beady eyes were dark and his lips set in an arrogant, self-satisfied smirk. She quickly averted her gaze.

"I'm afraid the dear prince isn't in top form today," he said provokingly, his low voice echoing through her chest cavity like thunder. Evelyn didn't reply and swiftly let herself into the room, shutting the door swiftly behind her. She paused, facing the door for a moment, stilling her breathing. Treasach always managed to leave her nerves aflutter. She knew he didn't particularly favour her, and she did not trust him.

When she finally turned to seek out Loki, her dark eyes widened in horror, and her stomach clenched as a wave of nausea overcame her. It was an image that would forever be seared into her mind—the sight of Loki, bruised and bleeding, slumped unconscious against the furthest wall, his bodyweight held up by a dagger impaling his left shoulder. A horrified sob escaped her lips as she stumbled forward.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, her throat constricting with fear. Was he even breathing? She rushed to his side, cupping his cold cheek in her warm hand, and pressing her middle finger and index to the pulse point on his jaw. The dull thump was there, but laboured. Panic struck her. His handsome face was battered, blood dripped from his temple and shoulder. There wasn't time to speculate about what had happened; she needed to get him down from the wall.

Running to the bed, she pulled off three of the pillowcases and ran back to his side. She was running on adrenaline now, she couldn't think about anything but getting him down, staunching the blood flow and getting help. His life may depend on her. Immortal or not, she wasn't going assume he'd survive a wound that likely would have killed any mortal man in minutes.

She cautiously wrapped her left arm around his narrow, muscled waist, pressing her chest to his as she held him tightly. Something wet seeped into her blouse—blood. Her body went cold and rigid. He must have several broken ribs as well. Refocusing her attention to the task at hand, she then took the hilt of the dagger in her right hand. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily and steadily as she tried to push back the nausea and faintness that was overcoming her. She needed a clear head for what was to follow.

"Oh, God. Oh, God," she mumbled faintly. Her fist tightened around the hilt, her breathing coming out in sharp pants. "It's okay, it'll be okay. Come on, Evelyn. You can do it," she said to herself. "Count of three. Right. One," her hand tightened around the hilt, "two," she gripped his waist tighter, fiercely clutching his emerald ensemble with her cold, trembling fingers, "three." With as much strength as she could muster, she pulled the dagger clean from his shoulder, blood spewing in her face from the motion. She tossed the blade aside and pressed her open palm against the bleeding, gouged flesh.

Loki's green eyes flew open with sudden lucidity, his gaze sharp and clear. He gasped in pain, his legs crumpling beneath him as he slumped forward into her. Evelyn fought to keep him upright, desperately clinging to his waist, but his weight pulled them down the wall. He collapsed limply beneath her and Evelyn managed to fall to her knees, straddling his thighs, her left arm still supporting him. The crimson blood was spreading beneath her palm, crimson rivulets dripping down between her splayed fingers.

She swayed suddenly, closing her eyes, her nostrils filling with the metallic scent of blood.

"Focus," she whispered to herself, opening her eyes again, only to be met with a familiar and oddly comforting searing emerald gaze. She licked her lips. Loki's eyes went in and out of focus, his head drooping forward. Evelyn pushed him upright. "Stay with me, Loki. Look at me," she pleaded desperately. He blinked, gaze bleary. Evelyn lightly smacked his cheek. "Come on," she urged. "Don't pass out on me, you insufferable git."

Loki's eyes focused on her, a strangled chuckle escaping his bloodied lips. He began to choke, closing his eyes momentarily in pain. Evelyn released her grip around his waist, took his right hand in her own, replacing her palm with his over the wound. He opened his eyes. She pressed his hand firmly over the gash with her own bloodied hand. "Press hard," she ordered. He nodded mutely, eyes never straying from her face.

While he held firm to the wound, Evelyn made quick work of folding the pillowcases into makeshift bindings. She neatly wrapped the first one around his shoulder, knotting it loosely.

"When I pull it tight, remove your hand," she instructed.

Loki nodded weakly

"This might hurt," she warned, looking apologetically into his dim eyes.

"As opposed to?" he managed in a strangled voice that might have sounded half-amused if not for the underlying agony lacing his words.

Evelyn blushed. "Right," she mumbled, straightening her glasses nervously. What was a little more pain? Without further hesitation she pulled the knot and he let his hand fall away. Loki's face blanched, turning first deathly white, then a sickening shade of green.

He gasped, releasing a ragged breath. Evelyn made quick work of securing the other two makeshift bindings around the wound, ignoring his protests and moans. He would bleed out if she didn't staunch the blood flow until he could receive medical treatment.

"Okay," she breathed. "We need to get you to the bed," she said aloud.

Loki didn't reply. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the wall. Evelyn felt fear grip her heart. She couldn't let him pass out on her. Her rudimentary knowledge of medicine had taught her to keep a gravely wounded individual from falling asleep. She didn't know why that was, but she was desperate to see his emerald eyes open.

"Loki." She shook him somewhat roughly.

He grunted but did not open his eyes. Frantic now, she took his bruised face between her two hands, caressing his pronounced cheek bones with her thumbs. "Stay with me, you infuriating idiot," she pleaded, jostling his head a little. His breathing was shallow. His eyes remained closed. "Damn you," she murmured, wrapping her arm around his waist. With strength she knew not she possessed, she lifted him halfway to his feet. His dead weight slumped against her, winding her, but she wouldn't let go.

When still he did not stir, Evelyn pressed her thumb into his shoulder wound. He cried out in pain, his head falling forward, forehead pressing into the junction of her neck and shoulder. Laboured pants wracked his body, his hot breath fanning across her skin.

"The bed," Evelyn ground out against his weight. "I can't carry you by myself," she pleaded.

He nodded against her shoulder and, with surprising strength, grabbed her shoulder fiercely with his good hand, pushing himself the rest of the way to his feet. With his arm about her shoulder and hers about his waist, the pair stumbled over to the bed. Evelyn carefully lowered him onto the soft cushions, situating his long body across the emerald sheets. She was aware that they were both sweating with exertion. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, unknowingly smearing blood across her forehead.

"Lie still. Don't go to sleep. I'll get Treasach to call for the healer," she said quickly, turning towards the door.

She nearly fell backwards when a forceful grip snagged her wrist, jolting her to a stop. She turned back to Loki who lethargically shook his head. "No," he rasped. His emerald gaze had darkened with anger and resentment. It amazed her that even in his broken and beaten state he could still manage an intimidating glower.

Evelyn frowned at him and she was suddenly struck with realization. How had she been so blind? Treasach was on duty. No one could have gotten by without his approval and no one with access to his cell would ever beat him so brutally. Her dark eyes narrowed with rage. "I should have known," she hissed.

She tore her wrist from Loki's fierce grip, briefly meeting his gaze.

"Don't," he said, struggling to sit up. "Get Thor."

Evelyn hardly heard his words. She was already marching towards the door with a vengeance. The door flew open, slamming against the wall as she stormed out of Loki's cell. Her body was tense with anger, her fists clenched at her sides. Her dark gaze met Treasach's, who merely crossed his arms pompously over his chest, a smug grin plastered to his ugly face.

"You disgusting, boorish, hypocritical cretin!" she cried.

Had she been less blinded by her rage, Evelyn might have noticed that the door did not shut securely behind her. But then again, had she taken notice and closed it, her story might have ended a lot sooner than anticipated.

"How dare you!" she cried angrily, pointing a trembling, accusatory finger at him. "You nearly killed him!"

Treasach glared down at her, unmoved by her antics. "Nearly? What a shame," he mused.

Fury burned through her blood as she advanced towards him in a state of fitful rage. The calm, reserved, level-headed Evelyn was lost to primal ferocity. "I demand that you call for medical attention."

Treasach pushed himself away from the wall and stepped towards her, his thick, muscled arms falling to his sides. He sneered at her, pausing a foot away before leaning his head towards her. "I don't answer to harlots."

Indignation swelled in her chest, and before she could stop herself, her hand flew out, striking him across the cheek. He barely twitched. Evelyn's eyes widened in shock as her mind caught up with her actions, but she was just so enraged by the injustice. Seeing Loki, normally so resilient and stern, an immovable pillar of solitude and strength, beaten down and vulnerable was disconcerting. Every minute was precious to her if she wanted to ensure Loki's full recovery.

"You bitch," Treasach growled angrily. Evelyn didn't have time to anticipate the backhanded slap that struck her fiercely across the cheek and sent her sprawling against the wall. She caught herself with her hands and cautiously touched her stinging cheek. Blood coated her fingers. She spun back around to face him, tears stinging her eyes from the lingering impact of his assault.

He was upon her in a heartbeat, a small dagger pressed to the column of her throat, his other hand knotted in her hair, pulling her head back to expose the delicate white flesh. Evelyn struggled against him, gripping his weapon arm with both of hers as she tried to push the steel blade away.

"Beg for your life you filthy whore," he hissed, his foul breath warming her face as he leaned his head precariously close to her own.

Evelyn gritted her teeth when the edge of the blade scraped her neck. Goosebumps shot across her arms and shoulders at the sensation. Her chest tightened with terror making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak.

"It's so easy," he breathed against her face. Evelyn recoiled, trying not to gag. "Human life is so frail. Your lives last seconds in comparison to ours. Fleeting. Insignificant." Evelyn whimpered when he drew a thin laceration along the base of her throat. "You aren't going to beg? What a shame. I can always blame your death on Loki," he said as he manipulated the angle of the dagger in his hand to press its cold tip to the hollow of her throat.

Evelyn closed her eyes, not wanting the last thing she saw before dying to be his disgusting, satisfied face. There was a sudden grunt, and the caress of the blade was gone. She opened her eyes and saw Loki's back as he pinned Treasach to the opposite wall, throwing punch after punch at his face and chest with his one good arm. Evelyn stared on in shock, her mind slowly processing the repercussions of Loki's actions. He had saved her life, but in the same instant had broken the rules of his confinement. Dread swelled in her chest.

Loki kept hitting him, over and over again, sending blood spewing from the guard's battered face. Treasach wasn't fighting him, and Evelyn realized he was unconscious, suspended by Loki's grip around his neck. She stumbled forward on shaky legs. She grabbed his shoulder with trembling fingers.

"Loki," she said fearfully. He didn't hear or chose to ignore her. He punched Treasach again, splitting the flesh on the guard's chin. "Loki, stop! Stop it!" she cried, tugging on his shoulder. "That's enough! He's unconscious!" she pleaded, tears in her eyes. She grabbed him by the arm before he could throw another punch.

He abruptly released the guard who crumpled lamely to the ground. Evelyn released Loki's arm, staring at the back of his glossy black hair while he leaned forward against the wall. She could hear his heavy breathing. Concerned that he was going to pass out again from disturbing his wounds, she gently, albeit hesitantly touched the back of his shoulder.

"Loki. Look at me," she breathed.

Slowly, he turned. Evelyn gasped in surprise, hand falling away from his shoulder as she stumbled back a step. "Oh my," she whispered.

He was blue—the same vivid blue that the Frost Giants who had sacked the city two weeks prior had been. He met her gaze but his normally rich, emerald eyes were instead a fierce, crimson red. Evelyn swallowed back the dread that rose within her. This was Loki, she reminded herself, not some maniacal, blood-thirsty Frost Giant. Her experience with the Frost Giants had been a horrible one and it was hard to separate the memories of them from Loki's similar appearance. She swallowed back her doubts. Loki had just saved her life. She trusted him. He may be blue, but he was no Frost Giant.

"Loki," she began, but he cut her off.

"I told you I would disgust you," he said bitterly, clenching his bloodied fists.

Evelyn shook her head. "No. I – I was surprised," she admitted. "You're still you," she said confidently. "You saved my life."

Loki frowned at her. "So we're even," he said gruffly, leaning tiredly against the wall and closing his eyes.

Evelyn advanced towards him. His wound was bleeding through the three layers of bindings she had put. "You unsettled the wound," she chastised, gently touching the bandaging. She looked up only to be met by his fierce red eyes.

His gaze shifted hazily towards the staircase. He swallowed anxiously, seemingly conflicted. Evelyn followed his gaze, immediately detecting his train of thought—his escape lay just feet away.

Evelyn shook her head severely. "Don't you dare," she whispered sternly. Loki turned his gaze back to her. "You're almost there," she said

Loki stared into her eyes with defeat. "I won't see daylight after this," he said harshly. "I just broke the terms of my imprisonment."

Evelyn was about to reply, but an agonized groan escaped the god's lips, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he collapsed. She managed to catch him about the waist, both of them crumpling into a battered heap on the ground. The sound of many heavy footsteps echoed up the stairwell, filling her head with their measured thumping, their rhythmic pounding building in her brain until her temples throbbed with an oncoming headache.

Loki was unconscious in her arms, his head resting limply against her shoulder. The blue gradually faded from his skin, replaced with sickly white. Tears filled her eyes. _What a mess_, she thought desperately. She gently rocked him in her arms, not wholly aware of her actions, clinging to him as if somehow it would solve the disastrous consequences that would result from the past hour's events.

The footsteps finally reached the landing, and Evelyn, through her dazed haze could detect several dozens of guards filing into the open space of the landing. She didn't know what they had expected – probably a madly rampaging Loki. What they hadn't anticipated, however, was a beaten, unconscious guard, a broken and bloodied murderer, and a young mortal woman clinging to him, eyes wild with desperation, as if her life depended on it.

**This was a hard chapter to write. I tried to deliver various layers of emotion all the while advancing the underlying intrigue of the plot. Hopefully it conveyed all it set out to do. **

**I hope it was worth the tedious wait. Leave a review if it so pleases you!**


	13. The Ward and his Companion

13: The Ward and his Companion

Evelyn nervously paced back and forth, hands rubbing together, the friction leaving her palms raw and burning. But she did not notice. Anxiety overwhelmed her senses, plagued her mind with the fear of the absolute worse possibility—death. It had been six tragically long hours. It was nearly midnight now. She just wanted news, acknowledgement, anything.

She had to know if he would pull through all right—was he conscious, breathing, responding, anything? In an attempt to ease her erratic pacing, Evelyn sat herself down on a plush chaise outside the infirmaries healing room. Her right leg began to bounce up and down at a dizzyingly rapid pace, so fast that her entire body shook furiously. In a matter of seconds she was back on her feet, unable to keep still.

They wouldn't let her see him. "Family only," they had said. Thor and his parents had gone in three hours ago and still she had heard no word of Loki's condition. When asked, the nurse had merely robotically replied, as though having rehearsed it a thousand times over: "I am not authorized to disclose patient information."

She had ceased the exhausting pacing and now her body rocked gently, rhythmically on her heels, arms wrapped tightly about her trembling form as if her own embrace might possibly assist in holding herself together. She felt brittle, breakable. Her body was aching from the mental exhaustion of worrying and _waiting_. It was the damned waiting that made it so painfully hard to keep still—like floating, suspended in an uncertain, unknown state of limbo.

A small mirror hung across from her on the cream-coloured wall. An unfamiliar woman stared back at her—a ghostlike spectre. Her cheek, decorated in an ugly, mottled bruise looked sallow, her complexion sickly. Her normally lively brown eyes were red-rimmed with the many tears she had shed. The thin laceration at the base of her neck had stopped bleeding eventually and she had foregone asking for a healer's attention. She hadn't wanted to take even a single healer away from Loki who needed care desperately more than she did.

_Loki_.

A wave of stomach-turning apprehension rose up her larynx. Her fingers tightened their grip on her blood-stained shirt. She continued rocking gently, her eyes continuing to stare at her frightening reflection, only now unseeingly. She was revisiting her memories. It had taken three guards to pry him from her grasp; two to restrain her by the wrists when she'd clung to him for dear life, as if he was the only anchor keeping her from completely losing it; and one to drag Loki's limp body away from her. A violent shiver erupted through her, a hollow emptiness expanding in her chest. She shut her eyes tightly.

She was terrified. All she wanted was to know that he'd be all right, that she hadn't completely ruined his chances of a full recovery, of _surviving_. She needed to know if the broken and battered man who had been insufferable and incorrigible at times, but strangely kind towards her all the same, would be all right.

"Evie."

She rose from beneath the churning waters of her thoughts with gasp of surprise. She spun around so fast that she nearly face-planted on the marble floor, her eyes darting about with sudden wild desperation.

"Thor! Thank God," she cried, her voice wavering with emotion. She eagerly hurried to greet the blond god who had exited the infirmary. Her thighs quivered beneath the weight of her despair, light tremors reverberating in her chest.

The words almost refused to form on her heavy tongue. "How is he?" She chewed the inside of her lip, her eyes darting past the large god's left arm where the door was ajar. She tried to peer inside, but a pointy-nosed nurse slammed the door in her face.

Thor's blue eyes softened. "He'll be just fine," he said evenly.

A gush of air fled from her lungs and Evelyn's spine slumped forward in relief, an overwhelming light-headedness overcoming her, knocking her balance off-kilter. She collapsed into Thor's strong chest, his thick arms wrapping about her narrow waist and supporting her. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms about his trunk. His strong, warm hands pressed comfortingly into her back. Her body shook in his arms, as dry sobs wracked her body.

_He was fine_.

She clung to Thor a moment longer, her body going through several transitions until her internal quaking finally quieted and stilled altogether.

She slowly pulled away from him, blushing at her display of emotion. "I – I was so scared. What Treasach did to him – I don't think I'll ever forget it." A shiver coursed through her body remembering the horror of that scene. It would forever be seared in her mind. "Can I see him?" she asked, her voice a whisper—uncertain.

Thor frowned and gently led her back to the arrangement of chairs. They sat side by side. "In a little while, maybe, but it's late, and first I need you to tell me everything again, from start to finish, Evie. Everything you saw, heard, and said. I need to know," he urged.

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn relayed the events back to him a second time, this time not leaving any detail to spare. She finished her account several minutes later and Thor's eyes darkened apprehensively. "Loki was fortunate that you arrived when you did. Not only did you probably save him from incurring permanent physical damage, but you're a witness to Treasach's actions. Without you there would be no case," he said thoughtfully.

Evelyn nodded. "When are we expected in court?" she asked. There would be a trial wherein she would have to convince the court that Loki broke the terms of his imprisonment, not out of careless resilience and aggression, but to save her life. If she couldn't sway them…well, Loki's future wouldn't be a favourable one.

"As soon as Loki and Treasach are strong enough to stand trial," he replied. "Three days at most. Our healers are renowned for their skilful work."

Evelyn nodded, but she didn't want to think of the trial. It was a daunting thought. The prospect of standing before the brightest and mightiest elders of Asgard to plead her case for Loki's pardon was extremely intimidating. She would wait to speak with Loki before considering what to say.

The infirmary door opened yet again, attracting both Evelyn and Thor's attention. A teary-eyed Frigga and an impassive Odin exited. Frigga clung to her husband's arm, an expression of resonating sadness and despair painting her fair, delicate features. When the Queen spotted Evelyn and her son she hastily headed towards them, tugging Odin along behind her. Evelyn and Thor both rose respectfully.

"Oh, Evelyn!" she cried, taking the criminologist into her arms and holding her tightly against her bosom. "You cannot imagine our gratitude for what you did. We're indebted to you. You saved our son's life," she said as she began to weep.

Evelyn felt her cheeks go red as she timidly patted the distressed queen's back in what was meant as a reassuring gesture. After several prolonged moments of tearful embrace, Odin gently pried his wife away from her. Frigga leaned into her husband's side, resting her head lightly on his broad shoulder.

Odin caught her gaze in his, and Evelyn felt herself stiffen under his the force of his single eye's scrutiny. His gaze was paralyzing and not one she enjoyed being subjected to. Whenever he looked at her she felt as if he could read her every thought, it was disconcerting.

"You are not a woman to trifle with, Miss McPherson. You have proven yourself time and again. Battling Frost Giants, administering to my son in his hour of need, and confronting Treasach on your own," he said reflectively. "You have impressed me," he stated simply.

Evelyn's cheeks grew hotter still, bowing her head and mumbling an unintelligible 'thanks'.

"However," he said, continuing, "The worst is yet to come."

Evelyn looked up at that. What could be worse than what she'd been through in the past several hours?

"The Royal Court is comprised of biased, chauvinistic old men of tradition," Odin said candidly. Evelyn raised her eyebrows at the unreserved bitterness with which Odin spoke of the court. "They will not be kind to you and you must prepare for their harsh judgements and cruel words."

"Is not a court meant to be unbiased?" Evelyn asked diffidently.

Thor looked sardonically amused. "In theory, yes, but in practice they are hostile old men, ruthless with their words and prejudiced against anyone of mortal birth. You are everything they resent, Evie."

"Oh," she breathed, suddenly feeling stifled in the airy room.

"Not to mention that you're defending my brother's actions. There is no love lost between those two parties," Thor added.

Evelyn nodded mutely, the feeling of dread in her stomach slowly expanding until all she wanted to do was curl up under her bed-sheets and pretend none of the past few hours had ever happened.

The Allfather and Frigga lingered a few moments longer, showering her with humble thanks, until, pleading fatigue, they departed from the infirmary escorted by a pair of guards. Thor turned to her, his blue eyes ringed with tired bruises.

"We should get some rest," he suggested, suppressing a yawn.

Evelyn frowned, not in the least bit tired. She had waited six hours to hear word of Loki's condition, by no means was she going to sleep without first seeing him herself. "May I go see him?" she asked, nervously wringing her hands together. Anxiety was evident on her expressive features.

"It's nearly one in the morning, Evie. Don't you think you should sleep? You look positively wretched," his eyes lowered to examine her state. "You haven't treated your wounds, nor have you bothered to change or wash. You're covered in blood," he said disapprovingly.

Evelyn blushed, but would not be swayed. "I won't be able to sleep until I see him for myself," she said, so quietly, that it was barely a whisper. But Thor heard her. His crystal blue eyes softening.

He nodded. "I understand." Turning to the nurse on desk duty, he said: "Miss McPherson will be permitted to visit my brother whenever she wishes, as of now."

The pointy-nosed woman looked somewhat affronted by this. "I'm afraid the arrangement is family only, my Lord," she said, her brown eyes narrowing at Evelyn who stood behind Thor's shoulder.

"Miss McPherson _is _family," he said stiffly.

"But—

Thor raised his hand to silence her futile protest. "Do not make this more complicated than it has to be. I am exhausted and hence my patience is severely wanting. You will do as you are bidden by the Prince of Asgard."

The nurse glared at Evelyn for a fleeting moment, but then turned her gaze to Thor, her eyes lowering in compliance. "Of course, my Lord."

Thor turned away from the nurse, disgusted and irritated. "Do try to get some rest, Evie," he said, squeezing her shoulder. Evelyn nodded and he quickly left.

Casting a wary look at the bristling nurse, Evelyn entered the infirmary, shutting the heavy doors firmly behind her. She paused just past the threshold and attentively surveyed the vast room. There were at the very least one hundred cots arranged systematically down the length of the room, some closed in within white curtains, while others, those not occupied, were visible. The sharp smell of sterile antiseptic filled her nostrils. She swallowed back the wave of nausea that struck her. She had never been overly fond of hospitals.

A young, male healer in a cream-coloured tunic was walking up the aisle towards her. She approached him. "Excuse me," she said quietly, not wanting to disturb any of the patients who were sleeping soundly in their cots.

The healer paused, frowning. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking for Loki…" she began.

A sharp look from the healer cut off the rest of her sentence before the words could so much as form on her tongue. Clearly Loki was not a hospital favourite. The healer gave her a distrustful look, his grey eyes filled with distaste and harsh judgement. Giving her a brief, unimpressed once-over, he beckoned towards the back of the room with his head. "This way," he said coldly.

Evelyn followed him hesitantly. They did not speak as he lead her down the long aisle, between beds and curtained sections, the sound of their footsteps softly echoing, until they reached a door at the end. The healer went through first, not holding the door open for her. It shut heavily and she just managed to catch it with her hand before it struck her in the face. She glowered into his broad back, clenching her fists at her side.

They found themselves in another corridor—this one narrower and shorter. There were eight steel doors, four on either side. Evelyn could have found his room from there. The two massive guards flanking either side of the last door on the left were not an overly subtle gesture. She rolled her eyes. _As if a half-dead demi-god could pose any sort of threat_, she thought sarcastically.

When she was standing before the pair of intimidating immortals, the healer swiftly spun on his heels and wordlessly departed. Evelyn withheld the childish impulse to stick her tongue out at his retreating backside. She was just so tired, and his ill-mannered behaviour had only served to irk her more. Casting a suspicious and cautious look at the guards she stepped forward and pushed open the steel door, shutting it firmly behind her.

The room itself was small and Spartan. A single cot, on which lay a prostrate form, two ratty-looking chairs and a table with a desk lamp were the contents of the practical decor. The walls were an offensive white, the kind of colour that is so scrubbed down with bleach that it's painful to look at. It reminded her so much of death, like the clinical room her parents' mangled bodies had been delivered to following their accident. They hadn't allowed her to see their corpses; their bodies had been so mutilated in the crash that there really was no point. She shuddered. The wake had been closed-coffin. She tightly shut her eyes, fighting back the oncoming terror that she had felt as a young girl of eleven. Two onyx coloured oblong boxes—so final, so cold. Nothing like the warmth her parents had exuded when they had been living.

Evelyn swayed where she stood, just in front of the door, as a suffocating coldness overwhelmed her, gripping her heart with fingers of ice. Violent tremors shook her body. She took a step back.

"Miss McPherson?"

The sound of his hoarse voice, a faint whisper, shocked her out of her catatonic state. Her brown eyes snapped in the direction of the bed and a warm wave of peace washed over her, melting the ice that had gripped her heart, at the sight of the emerald eyes she had feared, only hours earlier, that she may never again behold.

"Loki," she breathed, a weak smile curling across her drawn face.

In a few short strides, she found herself at his side, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. Her body began to respond to him of its own accord, her hands falling to his cheeks, holding his face, gently cradling the battered flesh. His brow creased, body stiffening as he stared intently at her with a mix of confusion and disbelief.

"You scared me," she breathed, stroking back his freshly washed hair with trembling fingers. Her intimate gestures shocked her, but she was helpless to their whims. She needed to touch him, to know with absolute certainty that he was really there—alive, breathing, and healthy. "I thought I had lost you." Her hands abruptly fell away, heat rising to her cheeks as her voice cracked with emotion.

Loki stared, unblinking into her eyes, holding her captive where she stood. Something transpired between them then – be it the honest and sentimental admission she had confessed to him or something else, she did not know, but in that moment she was lost to the embrace of his emerald eyes. She didn't have the strength to look away from him – the power of his gaze had stolen her agency. She was helpless to their depths. Only when he finally blinked could she bring herself to tear her eyes away from him.

With laboured effort, Loki pushed himself up to lean against the pillows. Evelyn made to assist him, but he had shaken his head with a grunt of pain. Suddenly nervous, Evelyn busied herself by fetching an acutely uncomfortable-looking chair from the corner of the room. When she settled it beside him and sat herself down, she met his dark gaze.

"How are you feeling? Thor said you'll make a full recovery," she asked, scooting minutely closer to his bedside.

Loki didn't reply, but retrieved the glass of water from his bedside and took a long sip before replacing it. "You have my blood all over your shirt," he said simply.

Evelyn glanced down at her spoiled attire with a careless shrug. "I wasn't overly concerned with my appearance when I thought you dead."

"I wouldn't have died," he said, running his fingers over the linen sheets. "Immortal, remember?"

Evelyn flushed. "I couldn't be sure. I don't know to what extent an immortal could survive after incurring what in my world of mortality was a mortal wound," she said defensively.

Loki smirked at her, his eyes glinting faintly with a hint of his mischievous self. A frown quickly replaced his smirk. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Evelyn blinked at him. "I'm not the one who was dragged through the meat-grinder and then impaled to a wall with a foot-long dagger," she said curtly, her brow knitting questioningly.

Loki shook his head, adjusting himself against the pillow. She noticed that for once he wasn't in his green and black attire, instead he was wearing a clean, white, cotton tunic, slightly untied at the throat, revealing a significant portion of his pale, toned chest. Her own chest tightened, her fingers itching by her sides. Quickly, she averted her gaze.

"What happened when you entered the room?" he prodded, eyes narrowing as he looked up at her.

Evelyn swallowed back the fear of remembering. She lowered her gaze, examining her slender fingers splayed in her lap. "I don't want to talk about that."

"You were remembering," Loki pressed, unruffled by her quiet plea.

She shook her head, straightening her glasses with lightly trembling hands. She stiffened when she felt ice-cold fingers, wrap around her raised hand. The long, surprisingly strong fingers squeezed, applying a light pressure, and pulled her hand down to rest on the bed. Evelyn licked her lips, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She refused to blink, refused to let them free.

"Is it your parents?"

The question took her completely by surprise. He remembered? She had told him about her parents and the dreadful fate they had met months ago. Had he really been paying that much attention? She hadn't thought he'd cared at all about her problems. She had believed him to be too selfish and removed at the time to concern himself with others' grief.

She looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. "Yes," she whispered.

The cold pressure encompassing her warm hand reasserted itself. It was a silent gesture, one that spoke of Loki's intentions. She wasn't alone, it said. She didn't have to face it alone. A few drawn out minutes of silence passed between them. Neither was inclined to speak.

"We've gone completely off topic," she said abruptly, absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck. "You never answered my question."

Loki chuckled softly. It was strange, not a sound she was overly acquainted with. His laughter was almost as rare as his displays of affection. Speaking of, he still had not released her hand. "I'm as well as can be expected. I owe it to you," he said, his voice growing stern. "You were selfless, brave, but insanely foolish to confront Treasach on your own." His gaze darkened, and he abruptly hissed in pain, closing his eyes briefly with a strained groan.

"So I've been told," she admitted, watching him with concern. "I was so furious at what he had done to you." Her gaze followed his laboured movements as he shifted his body in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. The shoulder of his tunic fell away, exposing the neatly bandaged wound, the white fabric stained with dried blood. Absently, she reached across his body to straighten the garment, her fingers lightly brushing the bindings.

Loki opened his eyes again. They were bleary, and Evelyn knew he was in pain. "He nearly killed you."

Evelyn nodded. "You stopped him in time."

Loki scowled. "I didn't have much choice in the matter."

She frowned. A little annoyed, she said: "As I have said countless times before, you always have choice."

His green eyes began to clear and he averted his gaze to the opposite side of the room. His thumb gently brushed the top of her knuckles, and then his eyes slowly shifted back to her face, churning with debilitating intensity. "Not with your life hanging in the balance."

There was a beat of silence. Evelyn sat up, sharply pulling her hand from his grasp. A look of hurt flickered across his features, but then it was instantly gone, his expression was stoic once more, pale and severe like the finest marble sculptures of Antiquity. She shook her head, confused by the fire his subtle caress and direct admission had ignited in her stomach. "I—

A knock at the door interrupted her words and the door to the hospital room opened to reveal the arrogant young healer who had first showed her to Loki's room. He scowled at them, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "It's time for your medication," he said tersely, striding towards the nightstand and placing a small glass containing a thick, amber-coloured liquid next to his glass of water.

Loki scowled, but obediently took the cup. Taking a steadying breath, he threw his head back along with the contents of the glass and swallowed. His face contorted into a look of disgust that would have amused her had she not been replaying his words in her head. Was she overthinking again? _Probably_, she thought. If only he wasn't so hard to read all the time, she might better understand the intensity behind his gazes, his words.

"Ghastly stuff," he muttered petulantly.

The healer pursed his lips and nodded, removing the emptied glass. "You need to get some rest," he advised coldly, his critical gaze shifting disapprovingly towards Evelyn who still sat by his bed. "Perhaps the lady should leave, my Lord."

Loki seemed to bristle at the bold suggestion. "Perhaps if you treated her with less disdain," he began with a contemptuous sneer, "I'd be inclined to acquiesce. As it were, your unabashed hostility towards my companion has left me harbouring a severe dislike for you. Hence, I have no inclination to follow through on your expert recommendation," he finished, his lips thinning, eyes flaring dangerously.

Evelyn gaped at him, before catching herself. He caught her eye and was met with her disapproval and disappointment. She glanced at the doctor who looked affronted and properly chastised. His lips opened and then closed again as he fumbled for words. "I see," he spluttered finally, indignant. "Well, then, if you'll excuse me."

Evelyn rose quickly. "Wait a moment," she called.

The healer paused in the doorway, glancing back sceptically. "Yes?"

"I would like a word with you if you're not too busy," she asked carefully.

He paused, but then slowly nodded. "I'll be just outside."

When he had shut the door, Evelyn turned to face Loki, hands on her hips, dark eyes narrowed with disapproval. "What was that all about?" she snapped angrily.

Loki looked startled. "I was defending your honour," he said slowly.

"Yes, well, stop defending my honour," she asserted, chewing her lip. "I can take care of myself, thank you." Her tone was defensive, her irritation evident. Perhaps she was overreacting, but she needed to ease the tension in her chest. His behaviour towards her had been peculiar as of late, not to mention that her actions were bordering on unprofessional. She needed—wanted to be angry at him, when in reality she was angry with herself and her questionable actions and thoughts about him.

Loki glared at her. "That wasn't the case several hours ago, or have you already forgotten that I broke sentence to save your infuriating life," he bit back, just as sharply as she had, matching her aggravated tone.

It was Evelyn's turn to glare. "If it was such a hassle then you need not have bothered!"

Loki's shoulders tensed, his lips pursing. "Listen to yourself! Do you really think I am so monstrous that I would let harm come to you when it was within my power to prevent it?" he demanded, enraged. His green eyes were sharp like a dagger's blade as they bore into her with furious fervour.

Evelyn swallowed nervously, her anger dissipating, quickly replaced by ashamedness. "Of course not," she whispered, bowing her head in shame.

"If my actions cause you grief, then I won't ask you to court with me," he said emotionlessly.

"I'm the only witness," Evelyn replied. "You need my testimony."

"I'll manage. I don't need you."

Evelyn bristled, hurt by his callous words. "Yes. You do," she snapped acerbically, her gaze suddenly fierce as she stared into his eyes. "Because when the time comes for the court to try you for your breach of the terms of your sentence, I will be the only one in that hostile room with a right to speak who doesn't have it in for you. I am the only one who can, and will defend you until your name is cleared of a charge of misconduct. I am willing to put my career on the line for you. I believe in you. So don't say you don't need me. Without me you wouldn't have a chance in hell," she said, breathing heavily, her chest heaving with emotion.

Loki appeared taken aback, his eyes roiling with an indefinable emotion. "You're so insistent on helping me, so why are you eager to quarrel with me? Have I done something to truly upset you?" he asked, his voice quieter, but still terse with confused irritation.

Evelyn shook her head. "No. No, you haven't."

"Then what's the matter?"

She reluctantly looked up at him. Her heart was aching with desire to enfold her body in his arms. She craved for the promise of their comfort, longed for the sensation of his strength. Of course she didn't want to be upset with him, but her inconceivable inclinations towards him were unsettling her, throwing her into a dizzying tailspin that would not be halted. She was drawn to him, she realized with honest clarity, and it terrified her. She had never found herself in such a predicament before—never thought of her clients the way she did him. She nibbled her lip apprehensively, suddenly in desperate need of fresh air and distance from him. Her thoughts were dangerously muddled. She desperately hoped that the source of these sentiments were merely superficialities—his saving her life despite the consequences, his looking after her during her injuries.

Loki's emerald eyes were intently surveying her features, witnessing their drastic change from uncertain to outright terror. "Miss McPherson," he prodded, his tone abruptly soft.

Evelyn licked her dry lips. "I can't – I should go."

Before he could protest, she had swiftly left the room. The healer was patiently waiting outside, chatting conversationally with the guards on duty. They immediately ceased conversation when she joined their presence.

"I know that the healers here have a reputation for being the best, but I would hate for your work to be too good. I don't want to bring Loki to the courts looking like he just came back from a tropical vacation," Evelyn said warily.

The healer frowned. "There's a full report of his injuries," he said, handing the file on hand to her.

"Still," Evelyn said, "if you wouldn't mind leaving him a little battered looking. It might just help his case." He gave her a reproachful look and Evelyn shrugged. "I'm going to do what I have to do to make sure he walks from this. I know you'd rather condemn him to spend the rest of his immortal life in a cell, but I won't allow that," she said passionately. She never failed a client.

"You seem very certain of yourself," he said cautiously, then nodded to the folder in her hands. "Everything is in the file."

Evelyn casually flipped through the various pages documenting Loki's medical examination and treatment. "How do I know you haven't omitted several injuries?" she asked dubiously.

He looked insulted. "I may not be pulling for Loki, but I do have professional integrity. Rest assured, all of his injuries are accounted for." He paused, contemplating. "I'll leave the visible bruises and lacerations untreated for scarring until after the trial. Would this please you?"

Evelyn smiled brilliantly at him, surprised and pleased by how easily he had caved to her request. "Yes. Yes it would. I truly appreciate it," she said, her expression filled with gratitude as she contentedly shook his hand.

He gingerly pulled his hand away, his eyes drifting down to the thin scar along her neck. "You should see to that cut," he advised. He rummaged in his pocket and withdrew a salve of sorts. "It will prevent infection. It's not a treatment for it since I'm assuming you'd rather the court see your injuries."

Evelyn nodded.

"It's clever—a sneaky way to win the sympathy vote. I would wish you luck, but my feelings towards him are less than favourable. I am sorry, by the way, if I offended you. I am not one to conceal my disapproval."

Evelyn smiled gently. "It's fine. Good night."

The healer nodded and left her. She stood in the candle-lit hallway for a moment longer before squaring her shoulders, sucking up her fears and re-entering Loki's room. She didn't want to prolong anymore conversation about her temperamental behaviour. She was being foolish and insecure and was letting her emotions run away with her. She was relieved, to say the least, when she realized that Loki had fallen asleep during her brief absence.

His eyes were closed, chest rising and falling evenly in sleep. He looked peaceful. Quietly, so as not to wake him, she crept towards the cot, pausing by the bedside to look down at him. Anyone who would have looked upon her in that moment, staring endearingly down at him, would have seen the affection in her eyes, the swirling, contrary mass of fondness, concern, fear, reserve, and uncertainty.

Carefully she placed her hands by his shoulder and leaned over his body, her lips brushing his sharp cheekbone as she pressed a feather-light kiss to his ice cold flesh. A shock jolted through her and she sharply pulled away, surprised by her forward actions, by the effect the smoothness of his skin had on her, and by the jolt of pleasant heat that warmed her body instantly upon the brief contact.

She stepped back but an unexpected, jarring grip securely snagged her wrist. A soft gasp of mortification escaped her lips when Loki's green eyes opened, capturing her in their depths. She licked her lips, heart pounding furiously in her chest as panic settled into her bones. The dimness of the room obscured his features as well as hers which, she well knew, consisted of a gaping mouth, flushed cheeks and two embarrassed, wide brown eyes. She swallowed back her humiliation at being caught bestowing him with a platonic kiss.

"I'm sorry for my behaviour," she said, painting the impulsive kiss to his cheek as her way of apologizing.

He didn't reply at first. She intently examined his face, the moonlight casting a pale, dusty glow across his pronounced features, accentuating the shadows and highlights marking the planes of his face. His expression, however, was unreadable.

"There is no need. I have done far worse to you in the past," he admitted, his voice deep and laboured with fatigue. There was a hint of regret in his voice, but she couldn't be sure.

Evelyn made to pull her hand away from his iron-hard grip, but he did not relent on his hold of her.

"Stay."

The simple request left her weak in the knees, her head light and aflutter with doubt. "I don't think I should," she mumbled quietly, hesitant to oblige him. She stared into his weary face and felt her resolve cave. "I suppose just this once won't hurt," she reasoned.

He weakly released her hand, returning it to rest on his chest. Silently, Evelyn settled herself into the chair she had previously vacated. Loki shifted his body over, leaving half a foot of space at the edge of the cot. Carefully, she folded her arms over the edge of the cot and placed the side of her head over her hands, facing the top of the bed. Two near-black orbs flickered in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and released a ragged breath, succumbing to frenzied ponderings.

Her mind raged with a tumult of thoughts, and she restlessly shifted through the significant moments that had transpired between her and Loki in the past two weeks. Each one pointed towards a reality that became increasingly terrifying.

She had always been an emotionally invested individual—with her clients, she was invested in bettering them as men and women, but with Loki, it went beyond that. She had formed a peculiar bond with him, and her emotional investment was not just in helping him regain his freedom. It was more than that—she was emotionally invested in him as a person. She had become a temporary fixture in his life. They shared their feelings, which was something she had never done with her companions. She wasn't treating him like a client, she was treating him as a dependable friend. In a way, they were helping each other in their respective darkest hours.

Evelyn's eyes opened briefly as she processed this. Her gaze settled on his pale, drawn face. He appeared to be sleeping, but she knew better now than to assume such a thing. He shifted his body, his head turning towards her and she quickly shut her eyes tight. She was in over her head and needed to get a steady grip again. Somehow she would push aside her disarming feelings for him, as well as the frightening inclinations that occasionally possessed her. A month and a half. She could do it. A little perseverance, a little added distance. It would all work out in the end.

**So, Evelyn is more than a little scared by the realization of her subtly growing feelings for Loki. And Loki will pull through just fine (*cue collective sigh of relief*).**

**Thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews. I'm so incredibly pleased by how invested you guys are in the characters. I can only aim to keep the bar rising higher.**

**Let me know how you found it. I look forward to reading your feedback.**

**Ta!**


	14. Honesty, Uncertainty and Parchment

**I'm so honoured that so many of you are following this story. I wanted to take the time to thank you all personally this week for your kind reviews. And, as for the guest reviewers: yet again, reading your kind words brightens my day.**

**Just a quick shout-out to Marianne: When it comes to writing a little practice goes a long way! Your comment about caring about what happens to the characters caused my writer's pride to swell in my chest. It's every author's goal to have their audience **_**care**_** about their characters. To know that I've achieved this is rather exciting for me. As for publishing, I'm currently working on a fantasy novel that's about 145 pages in. I'm also cooperating on a television series treatment that will hopefully be pitched to producers in the summer. If either of these projects sees the light of day, then I'll definitely let you know!**

**And now, I give you…**

14: Honesty, Uncertainty and Parchment

Evelyn stirred, awaking from an acutely uncomfortable and unfulfilling slumber. Immediately a sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. It had been three days since Loki's attack, which meant that Loki's trial would be held later this morning. She had hardly slept a wink the previous night as a consequence, too anxious for what the morning would bring.

There were so many thoughts clouding her mind that the past seventy-two hours had passed in an indecipherable temporal blur. She had met with Loki only briefly the morning after the attack. She had awoken at his bedside and had struggled with a fair amount of self-aware difficulty to meet his eye. After an hour or so they had established their would-be approach come the day of court. Wary of his temperamental, easily flared anger, she had instructed him to behave himself in the face of harsh scrutiny. Her advisements to him including answering all questions honestly, to keep his temper under control, and be respectful towards the elders of the Royal Court, no matter how pompous, entitled, prejudiced or cruel they were. She was guarded towards the unpredictability of his silver tongue

Aside from that brief encounter, she had not gone back to see him. Hopefully two days of rest and tranquility would prove helpful for his mood. After her experience with him in the infirmary she had thought it best to put a little distance between them, for both of their sakes. Lately she felt stifled around him. He supressed her breath and elevated her heartbeat in a way that was both frightening and delightful. It confused her.

Glancing at the time dial on her dresser she figured she had about two hours until she was expected to present herself and Loki before the court. She wanted to meet with him for at least a half-hour or so, just to go over their strategy.

She tiredly pulled the oversized t-shirt that she had adorned the night before over her head and tossed it haphazardly onto the foot of her bed. In an hour she had consumed a quick breakfast, despite have no appetite, and drawn a warm bath which had properly left her refreshed and somewhat less unnerved. She then rummaged through her drawers and pulled out a professional, but approachable outfit consisting of a black, waist-high pencil skirt and a cream coloured blouse. She neatly tucked the peasant-style blouse into the waist of her skirt and slipped on a pair of plain black flats. Lastly, she brushed her hair out straight and pulled it up into a high pony-tail. She briefly examined her appearance in the mirror. Satisfied with the overall look, she straightened the oversized glasses perched on her nose, and headed out the door with just enough time to spend forty minutes or so with Loki.

He was still being held in the infirmary, so she headed towards the West wing of the palace. It had taken quite a few months, but she had finally managed to wrap her head around the intricate system of passages and corridors that extended throughout Odin's elaborate residence. In a matter of minutes she was entering the anteroom of the infirmary. She ignored the pointy-nosed nurse's glare as she pushed the doors open, quietly padding down the now familiar long hallway flanked by cots. The healer from the other day was leaning over a patient checking their vital. He looked up at the sound of her footsteps and met her gaze with a curt nod.

Evelyn pressed on through the door at the end, acknowledging the two guards who stood erect outside Loki's room. She rolled her shoulders, nervously straightened out the creases of her pencil skirt and stepped inside. She was surprised to see Thor seated in one of the spare chairs, discussing affairs with a rejuvenated, albeit still bedraggled-looking Loki, who respectively sat on the edge of his cot.

Pleased, she noticed that some of his colour had returned (what little there normally was in his snow-white complexion) and that, as promised, the healer had left the visible bruising and scarring decorating his hands, face and neck untreated. The brothers ceased their conversation as she made her presence known to them.

Thor's face lit up in a hearty smile while, in stark contrast, Loki's smoldering emerald eyes gazed moodily upon her, as though he were displeased by something.

"I say, Evie!" Thor exclaimed, rising from his seat. "You look like you're ready for business," he said.

Evelyn fought a blush, glancing apprehensively at the understated but effective outfit. "I suppose," she said hesitantly. She tried to meet Loki's gaze, but he was glaring at his brother.

"So, are you ready to face the cavalry?" Thor asked in a gallant attempt to keep the mood light despite both Loki and Evelyn's dampening and dreary moods.

Evelyn shrugged, her lips thinning. "I don't think I'll ever be ready. But I can at least be prepared to face the onslaught. I want to go over a few things with Loki," she said, glancing at the demi-god in question. His gaze was now firmly planted on his hands, which were loosely clasped in his lap.

Thor nodded understandingly. "Of course, of course," he said. "I'll leave you two to it, then." He turned to Loki, who slowly lifted his gaze to meet his towering brother's blue eyes. Thor clasped his shoulders in his solid hold. "You will walk away from this," Thor said confidently. "You are innocent until proven guilty, and since there is no guilt to prove, then there is no reason why they should condemn you."

The blond demi-god's words were articulated with such resonating certainty that Evelyn almost fooled herself into naively believing them. She quickly caught herself, however, knowing full well that the rapidly approaching trial promised to be true test of her ability.

He promptly released his younger brother from his hold and strode over to Evelyn who suddenly felt very small. Unabashedly, he pulled her into his burly arms and gave her an encouraging squeeze. He released her with a supportive smile. "You will do just fine, Evie. You will make us all proud. We believe in you," he said kindly.

Evelyn tried to smile in return, but it came across as a grimace. The burden of the case was weighing heavily on her. So many people were rooting for her to fail, and some, those who she had befriended and come to care about in Asgard, were depending on her. She had their complete trust, their unwavering belief. The only problem was whether she had faith in herself.

Thor left the room and silence descended between her and Loki. She padded quietly across the room and seated herself in the chair that Thor had vacated. She looked straight ahead and directly into Loki's eyes. A margin of two feet separated their knees.

"Where have you been?" he asked softly, but Evelyn could detect bitterness in his tone. His eyes were accusatory.

She frowned. "Giving you space to recover. I didn't want to overcrowd you," she said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly to be convincing to one as perceptive as Loki.

"Liar," he hissed, his eyes flaring angrily as he leaned forward across the space between them, elbows resting on his knees, bringing his handsome face ever closer to her own.

Evelyn averted her gaze, flushing indignantly as her breath involuntarily hitched in her throat.

"You've been avoiding me," he said icily. "I would have thought that saving your life would have had a different effect than cause you to ignore me."

She returned her gaze to his, her brown eyes ablaze with sudden fury that took both she and Loki quite by surprise. "It did have a different effect!" she cried, rising abruptly to her feet, the chair scraping the wooden floor with a cringe-worthy vengeance. "It did. And that's why I've been avoiding you," she continued, clenching her fists tightly by her sides as all of her confusions and frustrations boiled over in an onslaught of fiery steam. "I've realized that I care about you, Loki, far more than I should. After Treasach attacked you—I can't explain it. I was so _scared_. With all my living, breathing, beating heart I did not want you to die," she said, releasing her ragged breath, her voice cracking with emotion, traitorous tears burning her eyes. Slowly her brain caught up with the spontaneous tangent of her tongue. She continued, guarded now. "The only other person in my life who has made me feel like that is my Gramps. So what does that make you to me? We're not merely companions anymore. We haven't been for some time now."

She felt her cheeks burn red, desperately wanting to shut her mouth, but knowing that she was on a proverbial warpath and could not be deterred. "I shouldn't care about you to the extent that I do, and I'm afraid that my better judgement might be distorted because of it." Her fierce gaze softened and she ran a weary hand over her face. "I just needed some space. _We_ needed some space. Everything that has transpired between us recently has overwhelmed me. I—I needed to figure out where we stand, and remind myself why I'm here."

Loki stared at her, his emerald eyes playing out a tortured inner battle. "And why _are_ you here?" he asked, his deep voice a just audible whisper.

Measuredly, she said: "My sole purpose is to be a confidante, a companion who you can trust. I'm here to reform you and set you on the right path. But somewhere along the way we both crossed a line."

Loki looked angered suddenly as he too rose to his feet. "So you regret every moment you spent with me that wasn't 'professional'?" he asked bitterly, spitting out the word as if it tasted sour on his tongue. "Do you regret sharing stories of your parents with me? Do you regret coming to me in the middle of the night, afraid and in want of security? Do you regret me tending to your wounds after those disgusting Frost Giants assaulted the palace and wounded you? Does it repulse you to think that you might have actually befriended a heinous murderer to the extent that you honestly care about what happens to me? Does it repulse you that despite my best attempts to supress my concern for you, a mortal woman, I can't help the damning desire within me to keep you from harm?"

Evelyn's eyes burned with tears of frustration. "Loki, I—

"Let me finish," he snapped. Evelyn fell silent. "If we're being honest with each other then you must know that when I saw Treasach with his dagger pressed to your throat, breathing down your neck with his foul breath, _I_ was scared. I was furious, and because I could not fathom watching that brute of a man take your fragile life in his murderous hands, because you have shown me the sweet promise of redemption, because of this, I would not let you die. And no manner of broken sentence or eternity in prison could stop me from tearing him away from you," he finished with a growl, so deep that it rumbled through her chest.

Evelyn closed her eyes, her body quaking lightly as she absorbed his words. His honest words affected her, leaving her trembling lightly with despair. He had spoken with such confidence, such certainty, that her resolve quickly faded. He was showing her his heart, and it was brimming with raw emotion. Who was she to tell him now that she could not continue to be as close with him as they had become?

In a quiet, tormented voice, she said: "I could never regret the unorthodox bond that's grown between us, but I need to reinforce the division between business and pleasure. Until this is all over I can't be your friend, Loki. I have to be professional with you."

A deep frown settled itself on Loki's dark features. "Circumstances have made your job here on Asgard somewhat of an exceptional case. It is only normal for such boundaries to blur, to dissolve."

Evelyn shook her head. "It still doesn't make it right." It pained her to do this to him, to push him away from her. She suddenly felt exhausted.

"Miss McPherson," Loki said carefully, his eyes gazing down into her own brown ones with disarming force. He took a cautious step forward and Evelyn instinctively stepped back. Loki paused mid-step, his expression darkening to one of displeasure. "Do not push me away."

Evelyn's lip quivered. "I have to," she managed to say through her uneven breaths.

Loki seemed to straighten as he took another step towards her. She stepped back again, then again, until her back struck the cold, bleached wall leaving her no way out. Loki pressed forward, his gaze pinning her own beneath its intensity. He stopped just in front of her, his chest only a few inches away from her face. She forced herself to look all the way up at him.

With deliberate measure, Loki raised one hand towards her face. Evelyn's chest tightened in an effort to contain her erratically beating heart, which, she was quite certain would soon burst free of her ribcage. She did not look away from his face as his eyes shifted to follow the motion of his cool hand. With hauntingly gentle fingers, he traced the mottled bruise pattern on her cheek. She closed her eyes, her breath uneven when his cool finger left her cheek to lightly follow the thin laceration across the column of her throat.

She opened her eyes, pushing away the pleasant warmth that his tender touch had instilled within her chest. With renewed resolve she caught his hand in her own, arresting his dangerous caress. His green eyes, now dark with intensity, flashed to meet her own. She pushed his hand away. "This is what I mean," she said in a quiet, strangled voice. "Those little touches, caresses, whatever they are. You can't—we can't do that. It's not professional."

His posture stiffened, his countenance turning defensive suddenly. "They're but innocent gestures. I admitted that I care for you despite better judgement, and I cannot control the impulse within me to see that no harm comes to you. That said," he continued, his gaze cool and unaffected, "do not imbue my actions with a meaning that is not there," he said coldly, withdrawing from her. "Do not make the mistake of romanticizing the platonic."

Turning, his broad back rigid, he strode back to his cot where he sat down heavily, silent rage pouring off his tensed shoulders.

The warmth that had just invaded her chest with weightless contentment quickly dissipated at his words. It should have reassured her. Platonic was good; it was the possibility of the opposite emotion that had unsettled her. If the intention behind his rare displays of affection was but a platonic one, then that meant she did not have to put as much distance between them as she had thought. In theory this revelation should have alleviated the fears in her chest, but in practice a little bit of her heart had shuddered desolately. In any case, she felt like a fool for being so affected by small actions that, on his part, did not equate the same meaning they did to her.

"Since my behaviour has clearly upset you, I will refrain from taking any more such liberties. I mean nothing by them," he said with cool finality.

Evelyn wanted to protest, to tell him he was being an insufferable fool, that couldn't he see how she was affected by his touch, how his gaze, the cool caress of his fingers, his fierce presence all culminated into one disarming package that made him Loki and left her continually weak in the knees? But she couldn't. He could believe what he would if it meant he would do his part of creating some semblance of professional distance between them.

Her gaze flitted to the bedside clock, her eyes widening in surprise. There wasn't time to continue their conversation. "We have just fifteen minutes to arrive at the court," she exclaimed, anxious all over again.

She eyed his attire and realized for the first time that he was dressed in full armour. She had only seen photos of him dressed in full armour while she had profiled him back on Earth, but the effect of beholding him in person was captivating. He wasn't wearing his helmet, she noted, but realized the horns might have been considered a weapon. The black and emerald ensemble and rich malachite cape exuded power, grace, and danger.

Her brow furrowed. "Is that what you're wearing?" she asked, doubtful. Logistically speaking, it wasn't the most approachable outfit to adorn if he wanted to arouse sympathy.

Loki gave her an exasperated look as he slowly rose to his feet. She was struck once again by the sight of him. Beholding him as he once was when in all his glory, she realized that she was looking at the real Loki. His lean body, impressive height, aristocratic features were accentuated by the regal outfit. It was as if she was seeing him in his real skin for the first time.

"I was tried originally as a war criminal and convicted as one. I will be presented to the jury as such. It will serve as a reminder and an indication of the crimes I have been tried for."

Evelyn just nodded slowly, eyes still surveying the intricate armou. At least they hadn't dressed him in a ghastly orange jumper. She strode towards the door and opened it, peering at the guards just beyond. "We're ready," she said.

"About time," one muttered. The other armoured man entered the hospital room with a pair of manacles in his hand. Evelyn watched quietly, standing off to the side as Loki obligingly held out his wrists, scowling as the metal cuffs shut with a cold clang. Evelyn shuddered and winced as well. There was something upsetting about seeing him chained like that.

The guards lead them from the infirmary, Evelyn and Loki following in solemn silence behind them. For a few brief moments they walked steadily in silence, the rhythmic patter of their feet mingling with the intermittent, jarring clank of Loki's manacles. A presence soon joined them on Evelyn's other side, matching their measured pace. It was the healer. Loki looked down his nose at him, suspicion and distaste made evident by the venomous sneer on his face.

The healer glared at the god in return, before turning his attention to Evelyn. "Do you have all the proper files?" he asked quietly, eyeing the guards distrustfully. Evelyn nodded, patting the manila folder clutched against her chest.

"It's all in here," she said, her voice wavering nervously as the merciless, roaring waves of anxiety inundated her.

The healer glanced fleetingly at Loki who was watching the pair curiously now upon realizing they were on civil terms with each other. The young man looked restless and Evelyn frowned. "It's not all in there," he said quietly, so quietly that Evelyn doubted she had heard right. But Loki had understood his hushed words perfectly. His emerald eyes shifted to the guards' backs before turning his towering frame towards them, his voice lowered.

"What do mean it's not all in there?" he hissed under his breath, his intonation tried with annoyance.

The healer swallowed and pulled a slip of paper from his breast pocket. His grey eyes shifted warily to the guards. They had just exited the infirmary, but the healer kept up with them. "I found something that I should have shown you right away." His grip on the paper was so tight that it began to wrinkle in his hands. "I regret to say it was a lapse in judgement, but you must understand, Miss McPherson, that I care little to nothing for your ward."

Loki's intrigued expression turned insulted, his green eyes boring distastefully into the healer's forehead. "I am present, you realize," he snapped.

Evelyn waved off his ill-humoured retort. "I understand," she said, gesturing for him to continue. Loki gave her a disbelieving look but said nothing, choosing to brood silently instead. They were quickly running out of time, and Evelyn he had lost track of the lengths of corridors that they had walked through. A brief reorienting sweep of the hallway told her they were moving into the political wing of the palace, towards the Royal Courthouse.

"I did not initially know what to do with this information, but then I realized that you would do right with it," he said. His severe grey eyes bore into hers. "Whatever happens, be sure to read what is on this slip of paper before you get into the court. The trial can only begin once the Allfather takes his seat. I will try to delay him to give you time, but I cannot guarantee much more than a few minutes," he said in a rush.

Evelyn wanted to stop the guards' progress, but they were on a strict schedule and she knew full well that they would not delay. Her heart sped up in her chest as the healer pressed the paper firmly into her now trembling hands. Her gaze flickered to Loki who continued to silently observe the interaction. He met her gaze, his expression darkened into one of reservation.

"It is imperative that you read it," he continued. "A great treachery will go unpunished if you do not address what is in that note."

Evelyn nodded, slipping the paper into the waist of her skirt. "Why are you doing this?"

The young healer seemed to stumble for words. His brow glistened with a faint sweat indicating his great trepidation. "You are a good person, Miss McPherson. I have heard of the things you have done for Asgard. It is rare to find a heart as untainted by bias as yours, so much so, that I might just support any cause you advocate for." His gaze flitted to Loki and a mischievous smile lit his thin lips. "Well, almost any."

Evelyn couldn't help but smile as well. She heard Loki scoff from behind her.

"Thank you," Evleyn said softly. The healer made to fall back from the group, but she stopped him. "I never got your name."

The healer smiled. "Eiron."

Before she could say anything else he abruptly stopped walking and their small company surged forward, leaving him behind. She glanced over her shoulder and back at Eiron. "It all falls to you now, Miss McPherson," he called.

Evelyn turned forward once again, a ball of convoluted nerves and anxiousness. She literally had the whole of Asgard depending on her now. She was dreading opening the note, but she knew she must. The burning sensation of Loki's pointed gaze searing into her skull left her tense. Clearly he was curious to know what the contents of the note were, but he would have to be patient for the time being.

The sound of a multitude of voices intermingling together loudly reached their ears as they turned down another grey, marbled corridor. They had arrived outside the courthouse, Evelyn realized. Her eyes scanned the excited crowd as they waited to be lead to the viewers' balcony. There were hundreds of people present, all eager to watch the young mortal woman sweat beneath the scrutiny of the court jury, all eager to watch the great Loki's downfall.

The guards headed straight towards the crowd, their steel boots echoing loudly and rhythmically against the marble, commanding attention. The crowd was soon awakened to their authoritative presence and, as if their senses were honed to one another like a school of fish, all eyes turned to Evelyn and Loki. A terrible silence descended over the corridor—so absolute that she was afraid her pounding heart was audible to them. The throng parted as the guard's pressed forward, undeterred.

"Traitor," someone sneered at Loki as they strode past. His expression remained emotionless, his composure unperturbed.

"Harlot," hissed a young woman near Evelyn's left shoulder. She refused to acknowledge the degrading insinuation, but to her right she could feel Loki stiffen. His head snapped in the direction of the voice, a venomous glower on his face as he challenged the crowd.

Evelyn wanted the marble floor to swallow her whole, anything to escape the animosity and hostility of the hundreds of intruding gazes glaring shamelessly at her face. She instinctively sidled closer to Loki, pressing herself into his side as she sought some sense of security. Forget distance. She needed a pillar if she wanted to walk through the endless crowd without tripping over herself from nerves. Loki made no sign of noticing the added pressure of her body against his side. He was preoccupied meeting any unfriendly gaze that dared linger too long on them with his own withering glare. Evelyn wished she could be as unflustered by the cruel attention as he.

They finally broke through the crowd and Evelyn released a sigh of relief. The guards directed them into a waiting chamber off the side of the court where they were left alone. The antechamber was small and grey, consisting of a mahogany table that was low to the ground and several comfortable burgundy couches and chairs. They were informed by the guards before departing that once the crowd was settled and the Allfather ready, they would be retrieved. It would be another fifteen minutes or so of accursed perpetuated waiting.

Evelyn settled stiffly into one of the plush chairs trying to relax, but her body would not let her. She was wavering on the precipice between flight and fight. But she would never forsake Loki, not when his future was in her hands. She was not a coward. If a fight was what it took to acquit him of being charged with a breach of terms, then a fight was what the court would get. Her blood, sweat and tears would be laid bare before them if that's what it took to have them see reason—to have them pronounce justice.

Her body gently rocked back and forth; her cold, clammy palms clasped together in silent prayer for a modicum of strength. Her right knee began to bounce rapidly.

"You're making me nervous."

Evelyn looked up at Loki who had seated himself on the chair across from her. He was watching her intently, his lips set into a thin, grim line.

"Sorry. I'm just a little edgy," she said, forcing her knee to still.

"Clearly," he replied. "Need I remind you that my future depends on you proving my innocence? I'm beginning to question exactly how you got this job. You're trembling like a new born lamb," he said. His emerald eyes bore into her face. "And a lamb will only get slaughtered by the court." His tone wasn't harsh, it was merely tense and underlined with concern. She could detect, however, that he too held reservations about what was to come.

"Sometimes it requires a lamb to subdue the lion," she mused, then offered a weak smile. "I will get you out of this predicament, you know," she said reassuringly.

Loki frowned, his eyes suddenly holding a sadness that set her heart to aching. "You do not know what is to come. Whatever be my fate, however, you must know that I will not blame you in any way."

"I'm not leaving that courtroom until you're cleared," she said firmly, meeting his gaze with an abrupt fire.

A brief silence passed between them.

"Just remember," she continued, "be polite, answer honestly and don't be snarky. You don't want to make more enemies than necessary."

Loki nodded, but he seemed distracted. "Their words do not ruffle me. I can conceal my emotions easily enough when it is an assault on my character."

"Good," she replied stiffly.

"However, should they decide to sink their claws into you, my sacrificial lamb," he paused, eyes darkening as they flickered thoughtfully across her face. "I am not so sure that I can sit idly by. It is, in truth, your allegiance to me that makes you the recipient of their cruelties."

Evelyn gave him a reproachful look. "I can take care of myself," she insisted. "I can keep a straight face just as well as you," she asserted defiantly.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her. "You aren't me, Miss McPherson. I have a shield of impenetrable iron at my disposal whenever the need arises to remove myself from emotional connection. You, on the other hand, are too soft. Unkind words will not rebound off of you; they will be absorbed by you—internalized."

Evelyn gnawed at her cheeks for a moment. How had he come to know her so well? "Promise me you won't try to defend my honour again. We know from experience that it never turns out well for you," she admonished.

He did not avert his gaze from her. He blinked once, twice. Licking his thin lips he sat straighter in his seat. "Will you read the note, then?" he prodded, his malachite orbs flickering with curiosity.

It was painfully obvious that Loki was not going to make any promises to her about his conduct, which annoyed her immensely. She couldn't have him ruining their chances because of his unorthodox sense of protectiveness towards her.

"Loki," she chided, her voice pleading for his reason.

"The letter," was his terse reply. His expression was stern, unyielding.

With a sigh, Evelyn relented. She had been reluctant to read it, but time was running out and she needed to know before they walked into that court what its contents were. "Yes, I suppose I shouldn't delay it any longer."

With trembling fingers she pulled the note out of the waist of her skirt. The thin piece of parchment felt tremendously heavy in her hand. It bore the weight of a treacherous truth that Eiron had uncovered. Her fingers were lethargic as she, with deliberate slowness, unfolded the note. It was a fairly large note, about a foot in length. She laid it out on her lap, pressing out the creases with her quivering hands. The inked script that decorated the page was somewhat messy and years of practice had attuned her deductive powers to discern whether the handwriting was female or male. She instantly recognized the tell-tale indicators of a man's scrawling penmanship.

She swallowed heavily, briefly glancing up at Loki who stared straight at her with an unreadable expression. He gave her a short, encouraging nod. She nodded tightly in return. Her brown-eyed gaze shifted back to the contents of the parchment. Her eyes followed the scratched words, scanning each line with careful scrutiny. There was much to absorb. The entire length of the note was covered in increasingly shocking truths. By the end of it her naturally pale complexion had gone sickly white, her warm brown eyes dulling as they widened with horrified realization.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, staring at the note that was grasped in her now visibly shaking hands. She released the parchment into her lap as if it had burned her flesh.

Dread. Fear. Confusion. Disbelief. Anger.

They all overwhelmed her like the rush of an unpredicted, inescapable tidal wave, sucking her beneath raging waters and leaving her frantic for breath. In a half-daze, she gingerly refolded the letter, clutching it once again between her now freezing fingers. Her heart rose, thumping deafeningly into her throat like the cadenced and finalizing drumbeat preceding the drop and sudden, life-severing, stop of the gallows. Her temples pulsed under the added weight of the letter's contents. She was sinking, suffocating slowly as she realized how foolish she had been—how foolish they had all been. Played for fools. The truth was obvious to her now that she had been presented with the proof.

She was still trying to make sense of some of the information presented in the parchment, but the more her apt mind muddled over it the more everything fell easily into place. It was obvious to her now, and she was ashamed of herself for not having noticed it before. Yet, somehow, it wasn't a surprise at all. Somehow she had already known, already detected it.

Loki rose instantly from his seat, manacles rattling from the abrupt movement. He rapidly strode across the small room to her side where he knelt down, one hand holding her knee in a fierce grip. He looked worriedly into her sunken face. "What's the matter? What did it say?"

Evelyn met his gaze, her brown eyes fearful.

"I can't believe I didn't realize. I've been such an idiot," she said, her face sullen.

"Tell me," he said, his voice holding a jarring urgency.

Her mind was slow to process everything, and, impatient, Loki reached for the note in her lap.

But there was no time.

The door slammed opened and the two guards entered. Loki withdrew his hand, casting a worried look at the stricken Evelyn before one of the burly men grabbed him by his bicep and roughly yanked him to his feet. "Time's up," the shorter one said gruffly.

The gallows were ahead, an empty hangman's noose hung waiting.

**Sorry I had to stop it there, but otherwise it likely would have gone on for another ten pages or so.**

**Lots of developments in the Evelyn/Loki relationship area – hopefully you enjoyed it. And I wonder what this mysterious parchment contains? Oh, wait. That's right. I know **_**exactly**_** what it details (*evil laughter*). Any guesses you clever readers?**

**Leave me some feedback and thoughts lovely reviewers ;)**

**Ta!**


	15. A Treasonous Deceit

**Firstly, thank you so much for all the reviews! It's the most I've had for one single chapter. I'm honoured by all the enthusiasm and new followers. Secondly, this is the court case chapter (exciting, I know) and it's in Loki's POV. Unfortunately, it turned out much, much longer than intended. Ergo, chapter 16 will also cover the trial. It's a long one, so enjoy and leave a thought :)**

15: A Treasonous Deceit

Loki watched Evelyn stumble to her feet in a daze. His perceptive eyes never strayed from her small, quivering form as she walked alongside him, her brown eyes unseeing as a mass of thoughts, the contents of which were unknown to him, flittered through her mind. Her reaction to the note had worried him and put him ill-at-ease. He could not think of what could be so shocking as to cause her that degree of despair.

The past hour or so had left him incredibly frustrated and immensely more confused and conflicted by his regard for Miss McPherson. She was infuriating and appealing all at once. To know she cared for him and was equally as conflicted as he was over their relationship was reassuring to say the least. He held her in the highest regard, a reality that he had never thought possible. He cared for her despite his resentment for the mortals of Midgard, in fact he'd even go so far as to say he considered them friends, a luxury he had previously never known. But now she wanted to pull away from him. He grew angry recalling her words. Her ridiculous principles of 'professionalism' were getting on his nerves. Couldn't she see that whatever they had, however unconventional or 'unprofessional' it may be, was working?

But there was no time to consider his feelings about the circumstances of their relationship, for they were already out the door and marching down the hallway to the courtroom. Out of his peripheral, he saw her trip a little in her dazedness. She quickly righted herself, turning bright red in the process. He had a grim notion in mind that if she entered the court distracted by the parchment to the extent that she was, the case's outcome would not shine favourably upon him. She needed to pull herself together, despite the contents of the letter. He needed her sharp.

"Pull yourself together, Miss McPherson," he said brusquely. He did not mean to be short with her, but he needed to rouse her from her trancelike musings.

She gave him a blank stare, as if slow to process his admonishment. The guard walking behind him nudged him sharply between the shoulders as if warning him to watch his tongue. Loki scowled in return.

He brown eyes shifted away from him and all too soon they were facing the ebony double doors of the courtroom. Each guard wrapped a hand around a silver knob, preparing to pull them open. The burliest guard spoke in a flat voice. "You will proceed down the aisle and seat yourselves at the table on the left. Treasach will be seated across, occupying the table on the right side of the aisle."

Loki did not acknowledge the guards, but Miss McPherson gave a slight nod as indication. A shiver of foreboding coursed through his body. All too soon the doors were opened for them and Loki followed behind Miss McPherson as they were admitted into the expansive chamber in which he had first been sentenced for his heinous crimes.

She walked down the aisle slowly; the rows of pew seats on either side of them filled with members of aristocracy, the most privileged and trusted of the King's company. It was all rather medieval, this desire to watch others being subjected to the scrutiny of mercilessly unkind old men that made the Royal Jury. Cases such as his were considered fashionable social events in Asgard. It reminded Loki of the public hangings and stonings that Midgardians used to host, and maybe still did, he could not be sure.

Straightening his posture he quickly scanned the room. The chamber walls were of cold, black marble, veined with emerald and silver tendrils. There was a forebodingly haunting beauty to the blackness of the chamber, one that was clearly affecting his companion. He watched her shoulders stiffen, a visible shiver coursing through her. It was the kind of room that, though elegantly regal, pressed in on you with an ominous, suffocating force.

When they cleared the dozen or so rows of members seating the aristocratic high-society members, they emerged into an open expanse of floor from beneath the gallery where all those in the overhead balcony could now see their progress. He could hear sinister whispers above him and he stepped closer to Miss McPherson's back, his chest brushing her shoulder blades as if, by shielding her with his body, he might conceal her smaller form from the hostile spectators. He almost tripped over her heels, he was walking so close. Cursing her short legs, he wished she would walk faster.

The space separating them from the two tables that were placed before the Honourable Judge's shining black podium was but a mere thirty feet, but he still felt vulnerable with nothing to conceal either of them from the burning gazes that bore down upon them with vengeful hunger.

They finally reached the tables and headed for the empty seats of the one on their left. Loki shot a venomous glare at Treasach who was lounging insolently at his respective table across the aisle on the right. He glared at the infuriating man who had caused their troubles in the first place. He would pay dearly for his crimes against Miss McPherson. He was not deluded. He could accept that no one would bat an eye at his condemnation, that no one would feel as if the violence that Treasach had committed against his person was not merited. But to threaten the life of his companion who had no part in his own criminal history—it angered him anew.

Treasach blinked back at him with a mocking look, then, seeming to lose interest, shifted his eyes beyond Loki's shoulder to where a nervous Evelyn shifted uneasily. Loki growled deep in his throat when the young guard gave her a deliberate once over and licked his lips, a look of sadistic pleasure twinkling in his eye. His body jerked towards him with full intention of beating that disgusting look off his ugly face, but a small yet firm hand grabbed his elbow, halting his advance.

"Don't do something you'll regret. He's trying to rile you," came her soft, soothing voice.

All at once, the furious fire that had briefly consumed his reason was extinguished. Shoulders slackening, he relented and turned away from Treasach. Miss McPherson was giving him a pleading look. He frowned at her and stepped towards the seats. His manacled wrists clanked as he gallantly pulled out her seat for her. She gave him a weak smile before sitting. He sat stiffly beside her.

Loki wanted to ask her about the letter, but now was not the time. He would have to wait and see what she chose to do with whatever knowledge she was keeping in her head. Tense, he stretched his manacled hands out in front of him, splaying his fingers as he experimentally tested the strength of the chain. The chain was made of Asgardian iron—one of the strongest precious metals found in their realm. He knew that without magic even a god would find it impossible to break free of them.

A sharp tapping roused him from his innocent test. Miss McPherson's foot was tapping nervously beneath the table. He suppressed the oncoming urge to roll his eyes at her recurring habit. In a few seconds he knew her leg would be full out bouncing. She really was an anxious, easily vexed little thing. It amused him how she could be so tough when it came to keeping him in check, but in front of a court of old men she became a jittery little lamb.

Carefully, he slid his large, booted foot toward her foot. With gentle pressure, so as not to hurt her exposed flesh, he stepped down on the foot, arresting her irritating tapping.

She quickly turned to look at him, eyes wide and confused. "What—

"Relax," he said, voice low as he asserted the pressure a little more, still not hard enough to hurt her.

Her chocolate-brown doe eyes looked up at him with disarming intensity. He felt his chest tighten painfully in his chest as the swirling rich colour lured him in. He could only blink dazedly as she offered him a grateful smile. Abruptly he pulled his foot away as an overwhelming desire to touch her lightly flushed cheeks overcame him.

Perhaps she was right and it was wrong of him to want to touch her. He was powerless to the inclination however, for her mere presence, both unassuming yet alluring, enthralled him to the extent that sometimes he simply wanted to hold her to his chest and press his lips to her forehead. Frankly, he could not explain the motivation behind these desires. For the sake of her sanity, and as a means of easing her silly fears, he had spewed some platonic gibberish. But that was an outright deception. Bestowing rare, but familiar touches and glances at her was his weapon against succumbing to a far more alarming inclination. This inclination was his recurring desire to silence her habit of falling into infuriating and incessant chatter with a searing kiss.

His actions were not harmless, despite what he had told her to ease her anxiety. He had asserted a pretence of casual unaffectedness for her benefit. She frustrated him with her fears of breaching her principled notion of professionalism. Was being a friend to her, someone dear who she cared for, really such a travesty? Would no one ever love him and care for him without fear or hesitation? He scowled to himself as those bitter thoughts plagued his mind, spreading a blackened hatred and resentment that had not influenced him for several months now. His fists clenched by his sides, nostrils flaring as the thoughts overran his reason, alighting a dangerous rage within his heart.

A nudge in his side distracted him from his thoughts and he surged above the waters of that dark place he had ventured into. She wore a look of concern, her dark brows furrowed, glasses slipping down her straight nose as she observed him.

Her naïve concern for him almost succeeded in dissipating his ire, but he held fast to the wrath within him and shot her a menacing scowl instead. Miss McPherson pulled away from him, taken aback by his animosity.

"Rise for the Honourable Jury, and our Honourable Judge Voglrson," announced a deep voice from somewhere above them in the balcony.

Miss McPherson rose obediently, casting him a wary look. Loki rose after a short delay in a lazy, languid movement, fully aware of how disrespectful it was of him to do so. The doors at the front of the courtroom, to the left and to the right of the judge's podium, opened and two single-file lines of elder, grey-to-white-haired men dressed in ruby robes as red as blood emerged. There were twenty-five men on either side respectively and they silently and sternly filed along the elevated rows of seats that lined the walls of the court. They all stood before their chairs staring down at Loki, Evelyn and Treasach, who were seated below them, with ancient, withering eyes.

They were a severe lot of old men, bound to a tradition of old, and renowned for their ability to hold grudges. Loki would be the first to admit that the fifty-person jury was excessive and outdated. He had seen very little justice delivered at their hands for some time now. Loki was becoming increasingly aware of the glowers and belittling looks being directed at Miss McPherson. His anger towards her dissipated immediately this time as the need to protect her from their chauvinism overcame him.

At long last, a short, grey-haired god of relatively wide girth waddled up the steps of the podium. Loki's emerald eyes narrowed into venomous slits as he bore his hate-filled gaze into the insolent Honourable Judge Voglrson. Honourable was the last word that came to Loki's mind when he thought of the judge. Slimy, arrogant, insolent, chauvinistic, lecherous, hot-headed git were better suited to his character. The (dis)Honourable Judge, as if sensing his hostile gaze, met Loki's eyes without fear or hesitation. A mocking challenge of a smile graced his pudgy lips, his dull brown eyes sparkling with unmistakable maliciousness.

The same, resonating voice called out again, disturbing the silence that had befallen the room. "Remain standing to salute your King, the Allfather."

Loki turned to face the Royal gallery. Much to his amusement, he noticed Miss McPherson looking aimlessly the wrong way. Hands still manacled, he grabbed her hips and forcefully turned her to face the same direction as the rest of the crowd. He felt her stiffen and attempt to pull away from his grip. He held fast to her, cool fingers digging into her delightfully womanly curves. He pulled her back, shoulder blades to his chest, and whispered teasingly in her ear. "I forgot you were a newbie."

He released her and she stumbled forward a bit, a shudder wracking her body.

Loki smirked behind her back, his previous anger towards her entirely forgotten. His gaze drifted upward to behold the entrance of his regally dressed adopted-father, the ever sweet-tempered Frigga who immediately met his gaze with a warm, encouraging smile, and Thor, who nodded sullenly, his sharp blue eyes gliding to where he and Miss McPherson stood. Loki briefly met his father's emotionless face. He glared at the reserved man with unabashed resentment. Odin did not attempt to avoid the look, but passively accepted his son's resentment.

A few minutes more and everyone took their seats, well, almost everyone. Loki knew full well that those on trial were expected to remain standing while they faced the Honourable Judge to hear the accusations read. Anticipating his companion's obliviousness to this, he daringly slipped two fingers into the waist of her form-fitting black skirt, hooking them into the material to stop her from sitting and embarrassing herself.

A fiery blush rose to her pale face when his intrusive fingers arrested her attempt to sit. Whether out of embarrassment from almost sitting or discomposure from his daring manoeuvre, Loki did not know, but he revelled in the charming redness of her cheeks.

The Judge Voglrson read out the accusations and recited the rules of the court. Silence from spectators, honest answers from those charged, and no violence, aggression or contempt were among the numerous bullets. Finally the judge bade them sit. A drawn out silence followed wherein the judge examined several files spread in disorder across his desk. He lifted his head, his beady brown eyes settling on Miss McPherson. Loki sensed her shrinking into the chair, daunted beneath the scrutiny of Judge Voglrson's gaze. Loki's own posture stiffened as he watched the judge intentionally trying to intimidate her.

"Miss McPherson, please stand," he directed, voice cold and arrogant.

She swallowed nervously and shot Loki a worried look. Loki's expression of stoicism did not falter. He knew how well Judge Voglrson could read body language and he refused to give the snide man any ammunition to use against her.

He carried on in an unpleasantly vindictive voice. "Before the case begins, I am obliged to first examine a severe accusation that has been made against your character."

Loki's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching beneath the table. He watched Miss McPherson's face turn a frightening shade of white.

"Your Honour?" she prodded, keeping her wavering voice as even as possible.

"I have been given reason to doubt your impartialness towards your patient, Loki Laufeyson," he continued, heedless of her evident shock. "It has been suggested that you and your client have become involved in a physically intimate way."

Miss McPherson blanched as if suddenly sick to her stomach while Loki almost choked in shock at the blunt insinuation. His surprise was quickly replaced by rage. The implication was ludicrous and to bring it up in court, in front of a crowd of voracious vultures and humiliate her – Loki was enraged. Judge Voglrson's gaze turned away from her to glare haughtily down at him. Loki was ready to say several disrespectful words, but the smug look arrested him. Of course Voglrson was only trying to anger him, to prove an accusation that they both well knew had no legitimacy.

Miss McPherson's soft, but assured voice filled the silent room. "You are mistaken, your Honour. My relationship with the prince is strictly professional." Loki grimaced at her new favourite word. "Our relationship is companionable, albeit at times unorthodox. But I can assure you that there are no romantic feelings between us," she stated.

Loki turned to look up at her. He was close enough to her to see that her bottom lip was quivering. He fought the urge to pull her to his chest, to hold her and lend her his strength, to protect her from such improper words. But alas he could not, for that would mean rising to the judge's bait.

The Judge Voglrson chuckled abruptly, shaking his head in a manner that could only be read as patronizing. "I did not say romantic, Miss McPherson. There is a difference. Fornication does not necessitate romance. Now, answer my question. Have you shared your companion's bed?"

Loki's chest was filled with indignant rage. Miss McPherson looked completely scandalized and mortified. His fingers itched with the murderous intent to wring the life out of Judge Voglrson's fat neck. He had crossed the line. Loki could hear the infuriating sound of excited whispering from overhead. His vision turned red with wrathful fury as the impudent judge made a spectacle out of her. He'd had quite enough. Broad body shaking with suppressed vehemence, he made to rise. His emerald eyes were ablaze with fury.

A sharp look from Miss McPherson, and a quiet hiss of "don't", however, halted his movements. He grudgingly stayed seated. His male pride was roaring within him with the urge to defend her. He too was also being implicated in this accusation and he had every right to defend his character. But he could care less what the court thought of him, it was the insinuations made against Miss McPherson that truly irked him.

Her eyes, now bright with determination returned to the judge. "I have done no such thing," she replied tersely. "Does this answer displease you?" she asked challengingly.

Loki lifted a brow at her unexpected bite.

Judge Voglrson turned red in the face with indignation. "Do I detect animosity from you, Miss McPherson?"

"Do I detect that you are trying to hassle me, your Honour?" she replied, equally calm and bitter.

Loki's eyes widened infinitesimally more as this new side of Miss McPherson manifested itself. Maybe she wasn't such a lamb after all, he mused, unsure whether he was impressed or disappointed that she clearly did not require any one coming to her aid.

"Proceed with caution, Madam. This is my courthouse. I do not know how mortals conduct matters of justice, but _civil_ people treat it with solemnity. If you do not check yourself I will gladly charge you with contempt," he said coldly.

The judge's gaze shone with arrogant triumph, as if he were fully aware that he had won this first round. Miss McPherson took a calming breath, clenching her fists as she bristled with subtle fury. She nodded, but said nothing, as though distrustful of what words might form on her tongue.

"When first I was informed that a mortal woman had been tasked to tame a murderous demi-god," he continued, as if in casual conversation, "I had reservations. But, gracious as I am, I endorsed you, despite my better judgement. I sincerely hope your lack of decorum in the courtroom is not a reflection of your professionalism when it comes to treating Loki."

Loki felt a fire spark in his chest, quickly setting his blood aflame with anger. He hated himself for not speaking up for her and defending her honour. But he would not disrespect her wishes, despite how foolishly brave she was attempting to be, standing up to Judge Voglrson.

"It has come to my attention that you spent an evening in Loki's cell," the judge prodded.

More whispers could be heard from overhead.

"If you were not engaging in sexual intercourse with your client, then what gave you cause to sleep in his cell?"

The impact of his blunt, crude statement set Miss McPherson's cheeks to burning as red as ever. Loki was ashamed of himself. All those times she had warned him to keep his distance and now he finally realized why. Any and every touch he bestowed upon her was ammunition in the rifle being pointed at her by the judge. His chest roiled angrily with self-loathing.

"It was an exceptional occasion, due to a suspicion I had that I was being followed. This was early on during my second month on Asgard. Loki's cell was the closest and most familiar place I could think of. I went there for security," she answered honestly, brown eyes never straying from Judge Voglrson.

"You thought spending a night with a heinous murderer was safe?" he asked, his tone one of mocking. "That is very peculiar behaviour considering he once sought to rule your race."

Loki seethed at the judge.

"I have never doubted Loki's goodness," she asserted firmly. Gratitude for her words swelled in his chest.

"You understand, Miss McPherson, why I must question your professionalism," the judge said, his voice cool and unaffected. "There are some tasks that women are not as capable of fulfilling as men. For example, your occupation—criminal profiling, I believe is what you call it—is a field better suited for a man. Men are more resolute in principle, whereas women tend to succumb to emotion, to romanticize reality and be overly sensitive. Sometimes a man is more suited. It was this disadvantage of your gender that caused me doubt."

Judge Voglrson's words rang out through the marble room. A silence descended, terrible and so absolute in the suffocating space that the pitter-patter of a mouse's feet would surely have been heard. Loki's breath caught in his chest as the judge's cruel, insulting words rolled through his. It did not go over any one present's head that Judge Voglrson had not only insulted Miss McPherson's competency, but had degraded the female gender. Loki's nostrils flared in fury, his green eyes boring with terrible vengeance into the prejudiced pig that had the gall to call himself an advocate of justice.

Miss McPherson's hands clenched at her sides, her face contorting with anger. He knew she would not defend herself against his bias. It would be to a futile end. Voglrson would not tolerate her voicing her thoughts and he would, just as threatened, charge her with contempt. Fury boiled in his veins. No one would speak up for her, no one could. The Honourable Judge was above the average Asgardian. It was his word that governed justice. Frustration exploded in his chest, knowing that she was in a double-bind.

Just when Loki bitterly accepted the injustice of their backward court system, an unmistakable, commanding voice rang out through the room. It was the voice of authority, of the one man whose word was law, whose devout hand oversaw Asgard. Odin's voice was bellowing and angry when it reached Loki's ears. He was quite certain that he had never heard his father's tone so unreservedly furious.

"Judge Voglrson, you tread thin waters. I pray you hold your biases in confidence with yourself alone and refrain from making foolish and degrading claims. I will try to overlook the outrageous insinuations you have made against Miss McPherson. As your King, I will account for her professionalism as well as her competence. I will not tolerate any more harsh, unjustified slurs against her character. She has done well for my son, and he for her."

Odin's wise gaze met that of his adopted son's. Loki's chest tightened in a conflicted knot of gratefulness and resentment. His father had won a modicum of his respect for defending Miss McPherson, but his resentment for the old man was still overwhelming, made even more so knowing that he now owed his father his gratitude. Odin's lips frowned at the corners as he held Loki's gaze, noting his son's conflicted expression, before he addressed the judge.

"I believe we are gathered here to decide Loki's innocence or guilt. Let us not dwell on the unnecessary." His voice was deep and resounded with an unassailable finality. Judge Voglrson, to Loki's pleasure, looked properly chastised by his King.

The judge directed his attention back to Miss McPherson who was still on her feet. His eyes held a nasty resentment, but his voice was sickly saccharine. "I thank you for your cooperation, Miss McPherson. You may disregard these accusations."

She nodded and sat down stiffly. Loki noted that she would not meet his gaze, but instead stared straight ahead of them. Loki scowled to himself, damning the fool of a judge who sat at pompously at his podium

"Rise, Loki Laufeyson," the judge continued, unhindered.

Loki rose steadily to his feet, wrists manacled before him. His emerald eyes scanned the surly faces of the Honourable Jury who glowered down at him before setting his venomous gaze on Judge Voglrson.

"You have heard the accusations made against you. What have you to say for yourself? How did the events of the afternoon three days ago unfold?" asked the judge, folding his pudgy hands in front of him, his fingers lining up like fatty, linked sausages.

Loki licked his lips, eyes narrowing as he stilled his sharp tongue. Oh the things he wanted to say to him. But now was neither the time nor the place. "Treasach delivered my lunch, as he usually does, only this time he started to instigate a quarrel with me. He made insinuations against both mine and my companion's person."

The judge interrupted him. "Did these insinuations anger you? Did you want to fight him?"

Loki ground his teeth, gaze darkening but unwavering in its resolve. "They did, yes. And I was inclined to attack him, but withheld the desire. He told me to hit him, but I would not," he answered evenly.

"How uncharacteristic of you," Judge Voglrson mused arrogantly. "As we all well know, you have a tendency to become murderous when your pride is wounded."

Loki's eyes blazed angrily.

A calm, soft voice spoke from beside him, notably cool and distant. "If I am not mistaken, this case concerns Loki's most recent breach. The past is not of relevance. Under my care, Loki has undergone significant change. His past actions should not influence the judgement of his present actions."

Loki turned to Miss McPherson, who stood humbly next to him, with no small amount of surprise. She was still refusing to look at him, which irritated him. Her dedication to his case moved him unlike he had ever been moved before. He stared down at her and slowly began to realize just how remarkable she really was.

The judge scowled at her with displeasure showing his hideously yellow teeth. "Your argument is well met, Miss McPherson. You may proceed," he gestured to Loki.

Loki nodded, waited for her to seat herself, and continued. "When it became clear that I would not rise up to meet his challenge, Treasach attacked me. I did not try to fight back."

"Hard to believe," mumbled the judge, just audible enough for the Jury and the three persons involved to hear him.

A fearsome snarl curved onto Loki's face, his patience wearing. "I let him at me. When he finally daggered me to the wall of my chamber I hardly had the energy to resist."

The judge looked unimpressed. "Do you have proof of this dagger wound?"

Loki's lips parted, but Miss McPherson's voice interrupted him as she rose again, holding her manila folder. "This file contains a detailed documentation of Loki's wounds signed by the healer who oversaw his treatment," she said assuredly.

Judge Voglrson did not conceal his elaborate eye roll, earning himself a few chuckles from the jury. "Well bring it forward, girl. I can't very well read it from across the room now can I? Incompetence…" he muttered as Miss McPherson scurried, face aflame, towards the judge, rising onto her toes in order to extend the file high enough for him to reach it. He rudely snatched it from her hands. "You may be seated," he dismissed her without thanks.

Loki watched her turn around to walk back. He finally saw her whole face for the first time since the attempted defamation of her reputation. Her expression was equally weary and mortified. She looked like a woman who had just emerged from a bout with a crocodile. He had a sickeningly ominous feeling that his little lamb had been broken. She sat beside him wordlessly, looking down into her lap. Loki swallowed back the urge to take her small hand in his.

Judge Voglrson finally looked up from the document after a few minutes. "Very well. Now tell me how you finally ended up breaking sentence."

Loki nodded gravely. "I was unconscious for some time before Miss McPherson arrived and somehow managed to get me down from the wall. She fearlessly administered to my wounds and when she discovered that Treasach had been responsible for the violence committed against me, she gallantly went to confront him."

His emerald gaze turned to her, his eyes falling on her quivering bottom lip and her tightly clasped hands. Protectiveness surged in his chest and for the hundredth time since being admitted to the courtroom he longed to spare her from all the judgement and the cruelty.

He slowly turned back to the judge. "She left the door open. It was the first and only time she had, and I am eternally grateful that she did, for if she had not, that foul man would have surely killed her," Loki growled, his sharp eyes shifting to Treasach, who was still lounging casually in his chair, unaffected, as if enjoying a spectacle.

"I do not know what was said between them, but by the time I stumbled to the door, he had fallen into a rage and had his dagger at her throat. He drew blood and I reacted upon instinct. I launched myself at him and, overcome by fury for his actions, I attacked him. It was Miss McPherson who pulled me away. I collapsed soon after," he finished, his deep voice harsh, his face stoic as the painful, emotionally charged memory surged back to his mind. He remembered that afternoon as clearly as if it had only just transpired. The look of terror on her face, the gentle courage with which she managed his beaten body, her desperation—it all swelled into his mind, momentarily setting him off kilter.

Judge Voglrson nodded silently, his expression grave. "Do you swear to this account?"

Loki nodded slowly but with steadfast certainty. "Yes."

The judge gestured for him to be seated, which he eagerly did, suddenly feeling unsteady on his feet. Judge Voglrson asked for Treasach to stand, prodding him for his account of the events.

A snide smirk lit the younger man's face as he cast both he and Miss McPherson a repulsively self-assured glance. "It's rather simple, actually," he began as he rose to his feet, shoulders pulled back as he puffed out his chest with self-importance. "I suspected Loki and his _companion_," he sneered sinisterly, "of having an intimate relationship. My intention was but to advise him against such ill-advised foolishness. He went into a mad rage, and began to strike me with his fists. It took me rather by surprise."

Loki's gaze narrowed as he hatefully beheld the guard. His lies were a disgraceful indication of his selfish character.

Treasach continued. "I tried to calm him, but he was beyond reason. And then his companion came along. I immediately tried to send her away for her own safety and have her summon reinforcement, but she refused." His cold black eyes turned lazily towards Miss McPherson, glinting sinisterly. "She was in on it too," he seethed, lying through his teeth with guiltless ease. He shook his head, his expression furrowing as though the falsely construed memory pained him.

"I regret that I fought Loki. I had to protect myself, you see. Eventually I caught the upper hand. It wasn't easy, mind you. I had no choice but to dagger him to the wall in self-defence. I stumbled from the room determined to call upon more guards for assistance, but his vengeful little companion suddenly blocked my way." He sneered at Miss McPherson from across the room. "She's a feisty little thing," he drawled, giving her an appreciative, drawn out look. "She fought hard and I accidentally cut her throat with a spare knife. My intent was not to harm her, but she would not let me pass. I was forced to physically handle her," he explained with feigned apology. "She must have removed the dagger from Loki before she came after me because the next thing I knew he was making a dash for the stairs while she clawed at me." He turned his black gaze to the judge. "She purposely left the door open for him. They were both going to escape Asgard together. I tried to stop him and I am glad that I was successful," he finished, his tone severe and hinted with malignity.

Loki's whole body bristled with outrage. The account was preposterous, a poor excuse at redeeming himself in the eyes of the jury. And to then implicate Miss McPherson as partaking in a falsely claimed criminal offence – it made him reel with indignity. The words were tumbling from his silver tongue before he could even attempt to douse his flaring temper. "You lying, deceitful scoundrel," he snarled, rising to his feet.

He was vaguely aware of Miss McPherson rising as well, vaguely aware of her desperate hands clinging to his forearms, vaguely aware of her trying to pull him back down to his seat. He ignored her, blinded by rage. "You are the lowest of scum," he growled, leering down at him from his superior height. "To dare accuse an innocent woman of such monstrous crimes," he roared, "it's revolting!"

The tugging on his arms became more insistent, and the sound of heavy, even footsteps marching towards him aroused his awareness. He glanced over his shoulder to see two heavily armed guards striding down the aisle towards them, expressions grim. His fury did not ebb, but he reluctantly yielded to the warm hands on his arms before he could be publicly disgraced by the guards for his reckless utterances. He sat heavily once again, resigned.

Miss McPherson was finally looking at him, no longer avoiding her gaze. Her eyes were wide and pleading with warning. He glowered, still overcome by wrath.

"Loki, be advised that your careless words have no place in this courtroom. Your ego will serve you best securely locked away. You have shared your account and it was Treasach's turn to do so. Need I remind you that this is a court of justice. All voice will be heard. All voices will be equally considered. I thank you to heed this warning," Judge Voglrson said, eyes bright and patronizing.

Loki's nostrils flared, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. A soft, warm hand fell upon his clenched fists. His emerald eyes shot towards Miss McPherson. Her face was drawn, but her eyes shone with renewed vigour that gave him hope.

"Leave it to me," she whispered. "I'll handle this."

He met her chocolate brown gaze full on and some creature, deep within his chest, stirred from sleep, unravelled its length, and roared to life. He knew she was frightened, unsure and burdened with the contents of the letter, yet somehow she managed to put on a brave face and be courageous for him. He could have kissed her then, he realized with disbelief. In fact, he found himself desperately wanting so as to reassure himself that such an angel as she was real. He could have stared into her fierce eyes for an eternity, but the snide voice of Judge Voglrson tore both their gazes away, drawing them to the podium.

"Being the only witness to this encounter, Miss McPherson, you realize that your words carry a reasonably significant weight. I would ask that you describe the happenings of this altercation without bias. I know you might struggle, but there is no place for delicate emotion at the moment. You must be honest before the Honourable Jury."

Loki saw her shoulders stiffen at his subtle jibe at her gender, but she bravely and sensibly withheld any overtly visible indications of her irritation.

She began to speak, her soft voice commanding the jury's attention. Her words were spoken with a soothing grace and conviction that seemed to settle a sense of calm over all those present. He leaned towards her, intent on her words.

"I found Loki daggered to the wall and I bandaged his wounds to the best of my ability. Loki tried to prevent me from confronting Treasach, but I foolishly ignored his warning. If I had not been so thoughtless Loki never would have left the limits of his cell to save my life," she said quietly, her voice a pained whisper. The Honourable Jury collectively leaned over in their seats, trying to catch the young woman's quiet words. She was clearly tormented as she relived the memory, and much to Loki's astonishment three or four of the normally stoic, withered faces of the jury softened as they gazed down at her. "I owe him my life."

She pressed on, determined. "Treasach accused me of being a harlot. I slapped him; I confess I could not stop myself. My actions angered him and he held me to the wall, a dagger at my throat. When I would not beg for my life, he said…" she paused, glancing over her shoulder at Treasach who was glaring at her with such loathsome hatred that the hair on the back of Loki's long, pale neck began to curl. Loki eagerly awaited her words. He had not heard Treasach call her a harlot, nor had he heard the words that Miss McPherson was struggling to voice now. At the time, he had only _seen_, not heard. Everything had fallen to the furthest backburner of his brain at the sight of her throat being cut by his dagger just enough to draw a thin, bright line of her crimson blood.

She cleared her throat, wringing her hands together. "He said he could always blame my death on Loki."

Loki's posture straightened, his gaze flashing quickly back to Miss McPherson. A few whispers were heard from above until a guard shushed them all.

The judge's frown deepened. "Do you believe that he intended to act on this threat?"

Miss McPherson swallowed carefully before she replied cautiously.

"I do believe so, yes. In fact," she paused again, her gaze lowering. A subtle motion of her hands caught his attention, and he watched with growing anxiety as she pulled the accursed parchment from the waist of her skirt, fingers trembling lightly. Loki's chest tightened as disquiet permeated his chest. Dread swelled in his gut as an involuntary shiver of ominousness coursed through his body.

"In fact," she repeated, now clutching the paper tightly in both hands, "I believe that Treasach's actions had been previously calculated. I – I believe that his actions were premeditated and inspired by an act of treachery against the Allfather."

Loki's lips parted in a dumbfounded gape. He was aware that most everyone wore a similar expression of incredulity. He shut his mouth. In a matter of seconds, the case had become much larger than Loki's own altercation with Treasach. Treachery against Odin? He could not comprehend it.

A chorus of whispers broke out as the spectators in the courthouse immersed themselves in hushed conversations of disbelief, indignity, and scandal. It took several attempts for the guards to silence their shameless blathering.

Judge Voglrson, first to overcome his shock at her words, rose to his feet, his beady eyes set on Miss McPherson with incapacitating rage. "Am I correct in thinking that you are accusing Treasach, a faithful member of the Asgardian Royal Guard, of breaking the King's trust? Are you suggesting that he has committed treason?" he roared in indignation.

Loki, as well as the hundreds present, silently watched the trembling young mortal woman. There was nothing he could do on her behalf, nothing he could say. Only she knew the contents of the letter. He hated that she was alone in what would come, but there was no alternative. She had laid herself on the sacrificial altar. All he could do was offer her his silent strength.

"I do, your Honour. And I can prove it."


	16. To Taste Freedom

16: To Taste Freedom

Evelyn levelled her gaze with that of Judge Voglrson. He had humiliated her and thrown her off her game from the moment he had opened his pompous mouth to insinuate the existence of a physical relationship between herself and Loki. Anger had burned through her, fueled by her mortification.

His nasal, cocky voice spoke up. "That is a grave accusation, Miss McPherson. You would be wise to rethink the thoughtless words you have spoken."

Grinding her teeth, she lifted her head with as much dignity as she could muster from the modicum that was left still intact. "I do not have to rethink anything, your Honour. There is truth to my words."

Judge Voglrson glowered at her, his chubby face glistened with a light sheen of sweat, turning beet red with rage. "On what grounds do you make this outrageous accusation against a trained and respected guard?" he asked sharply, his bitterness unrepressed. "Treason is the severest of allegations. What proof do you have for this suspicion?"

"I have a note," she replied simply, struggling to keep contempt out of her tone. She clutched the parchment tighter between her fingers.

"A note?" He laughed with cruel mirth, his beady eyes mocking her at her own expense. "A single note is hardly substantial evidence to hold up in my court. How did you come by this note? Do you have anyone to testify on its behalf or are we all expected to trust the word of a mortal woman who is clearly desperate to prove her questionable merit?"

Evelyn's fists clenched, her nails digging painfully into her palms. She felt Loki stiffen beside her. Was it her place to give Eiron away? The colour left her cheeks as the blood drained from her face down to her toes. It really did seem silly now that she thought of it. Was a parchment containing proof of Treasach's suspicious behaviour enough to condemn him?

A single, clear voice resonated through the silent room. "I will testify on her behalf."

Evelyn spun around along with the rest of the court to seek out the distinct voice. Eiron was standing in the balcony, his head tilted confidently upwards.

"And who are you exactly?" the judge asked belittlingly.

"I am Eiron, the healer responsible for administering to both Loki and Treasach's wounds. The letter in Miss McPherson's possession was found by me on Treasach's person when he arrived in hospital," he explained.

The judge did not look pleased by this as he turned his gaze back to Evelyn. "What does the parchment say?" he asked, hesitance evident in his tone.

Evelyn unfolded the paper with trembling hands. "The note itself contains confidential information that I am not at liberty to share with those present. Generally, it details Treasach's guard rotation along the perimeter. The dates of his boundary patrol coincide with the specialized patrols sent to survey the perimeter for the breach in the perimeter shields. His shifts always coincide with these. It is likely that he was able to divert attention away from the disabled section of the shield by avowing for having verified them," Evelyn reasoned carefully.

Judge Voglrson puffed out his cheeks, annoyed. "That is mere speculation. It could easily be coincidence. It is not enough to implicate Treasach for the crime that you deem him guilty of," he said, unimpressed.

Evelyn nodded, agreeing with him. "You are right, but that is not all the parchment contains. There are a dozen or so dates with small entries documenting concerning matters of state had between Odin and his advisors, as well as private conversations had between Frigga and Loki, Thor and Loki," she paused, uncertainly meeting Loki's disbelieving emerald gaze, "and between myself and Loki."

Her brown eyes held fast to the judge's with renewed intensity. "I am no expert, your Honour, but several of these passages describe in detail military surveillance and movements across the realms. Most of the references are lost on me, but I can understand it well enough to know that the contents of this parchment are not meant for the eyes of those not immediately involved in the original conversations."

Evelyn paused to refold the parchment. "This parchment holds secrets of state and infringes on private conversations had between members of the royal family while visiting in Loki's cell during Treasach's guard duties."

The judge's expression had turned remarkably grave, all arrogance lost. He beckoned her forward. "Show me," he said; his voice was uncommonly quiet and strained now.

Evelyn abided, hurrying forward to hand him the note, eager to remove the burden of its immoral weight from her shaking hands. "You will notice at the bottom, scratched out untidily, a few underlined words," she said, looking up at the judge who was unfolding the paper to read. His beady eyes met hers. "Find a way to break his sentence," she said, her words coming out in a strangled whisper. "Find a way to break his sentence," she repeated. She had spoken so softly that only Judge Voglrson had heard her softly uttered words.

An understanding passed between them, one that took Evelyn off guard, for she had not anticipated that any manifestation of mutual agreement could ever arise between their two incompatible personalities. She knew he could not deny the proof that was burning on the parchment in his hands. It was indisputable.

Judge Voglrson's lips thinned, then pursed. "I will circulate this among the Honourable Jury while they negotiate the verdict," he said, his voice resounding with blunt honesty. Evelyn, being a well-practiced judge of character, recognized an honest promise when she heard one. Satisfied, she nodded curtly and returned to her seat.

On her way back to the oak table, the familiar burn of his gaze seared blaringly into her flesh. She briefly connected with him. His expression was stony, but his eyes held gratitude. She looked away as her stomach fluttered, his grateful expression threatening to sway her anger towards him. His ignorance had been partial cause for the cruel words Judge Voglrson had spoken against her character. She had warned him, but he had not listened, and now she had paid a most grievously unforgiving price. Reaching her designated seat she turned to the judge but did not sit.

"Is there more you wish to share, Miss McPherson?" he asked, sounding suddenly weary.

Evelyn nodded slowly. "Only that the contents of the parchment clearly reveal that Treasach's intention was never to kill Loki, but to merely lead him to break sentence. He took advantage of Loki's emotions, tested and tried them, and by threatening my life he finally managed to trick him into crossing the line of his imprisonment. It was all part of a sinister plan to ruin Loki's chances of reintegration," she said, voicing her suspicions.

The judge fixed her with a level stare before he nodded pensively and lowered his gaze to skim through the contents of the letter, expression grave. After a few moments he lifted his head, his beady eyes falling on Treasach with coolness. "Is there anything you have to say on behalf of this parchment's incriminating contents?" he asked.

Treaseach stretched out his legs, an aloof grin on his face. "I don't know what a piece of parchment proves," he said evenly, examining his nails. "Anyone might have forged it. And who knows, maybe the good doctor slipped it on my person in order to implicate me in a charge of treason. It could be a conspiracy," he mused sardonically.

Judge Voglrson looked annoyed by Treasach's nonchalance. His gaze lifted upwards to the spectator balcony, seeking out the healer. "What have you to say to this, Eiron?"

Evelyn turned in her seat as the healer rose to his feet, his expression drawn and removed of emotion. "I care for Asgard's prince no more than most of you who are present here today. That said, I will not stand idly by and permit a possible act of treachery to be committed against my King without being properly inquired after. The parchment was on his person, I assure you. When the nurses removed his armour, it fell from between his tunic and chainmail. I did not falsify incriminating evidence against the guard," he asserted, his grey eyes drifting solemnly towards Treasach. The guard in question had not bothered to turn around, but continued to lounge indolently in his seat, arrogance wafting from his person like nauseatingly aromatic cologne.

"Thank you, Eiron," the judge said, waving his hand in dismissal. His searching gaze deliberately scanned the three individuals seated before him. "Before the Honourable Jury is dismissed to reach their verdict, is there anything else of relevance to this case that needs to be articulated?"

Evelyn briefed a glance at Loki who stared ahead of him with determined resolve, his expression stoic. She shifted her own gaze back to the judge and found him watching her intently. Swallowing nervously, she nodded, rising to her feet. Out of her peripherals, she saw Loki turn to her. Carefully, she flattened out the creases in her skirt, smoothing out the fabric bunched about her hips.

"I have but one more thing to say," she began hesitantly. She turned to face the Honourable Jury, first to the left of her and then to the right. "I know that Loki's past crimes will likely influence your verdict. We are all imperfect, and it is naïve to think it possible to completely remove ourselves from bias. I sincerely hope, however, that you can look past this and realize that Loki, despite being the villain in your eyes played the hero three days ago when he saved my life."

Licking her lips, she let a moment of silence pass wherein she made steady eye contact with the jury, some of which, she noticed looked away from her as if discomfited. Her little experience in the court of law had taught her to appeal to the jury's sense of honour, to arouse their sympathy. She would be damned if she didn't end this trial on a high note. "Loki is guilty of many crimes that he can only hope to one day be redeemed of. But in this past week, isolating his actions from his previous wrongdoings, Loki has been guilty of but one crime," she asserted, her chocolate brown eyes ablaze with passionate intensity, "and that is altruism. His actions have proven himself capable of humanity and selflessness. His actions were those of a good man who, jeopardizing the promise of freedom, saved the life of a mortal."

She finished in a quiet voice that commanded the jury to lean forward in order to hear her softly spoken words. Warily, she seated herself, vaguely aware of the absolute silence that had befallen the courtroom. Despite the silence, her brain was screaming, spinning; her core quivered with a combination of relief at having finally conveyed her purpose, but mortification as well.

She just wanted all of it to be done and over with. It had all proven too much for her to handle. Loki was right – despite her best efforts she was a lamb and she internalized cruelties. She wasn't as tough as she had thought she was. It had taken all the pride and dignity she had left to speak those last few words beneath the judgemental glares of the spectators, and the intent, dissecting gazes of the jury as they picked apart her words and sought her weaknesses.

Rigidly, she sat in her seat, waiting for the judge to close session.

"Duly noted, Miss McPherson," he said. "No other words?" When no one moved to speak, he said, "Then I pronounce this trial adjourned." Judge Voglrson brought down his marble-handled gavel with a resonating crack of closure that caused Evelyn to jump a little in her seat. "Court will rejoin in two hours, during which time the Honourable Jury will deliberate and decide the verdict. You are dismissed."

Evelyn rose along with the entirety of the courtroom and waited respectfully for the judge, jury and royal family to exit. When they had left, the courtroom erupted into loud chatter as citizens of Asgard fought to be heard above one another as they excitedly gossiped about the morning's events.

Two guards approached them from down the aisle. One lead Treasach away to a room to await the return of the jury and the other escorted her and Loki back to the room they had first waited in before the court session. Neither Evelyn, nor Loki attempted to speak or even look at the other as they were ushered into the room. The door shut behind them, and they were alone. Dread was heavy in each of their hearts, but humiliation swelled in Evelyn's chest alone like a poisonous root that blackened all other emotions, leaving her bitter towards the handsome man who cautiously seated himself beside her.

"You're angry," he said finally, ever-perceptive.

Evelyn seethed in silence, her fists clenched. "You're damn right I'm angry," she hissed.

Loki did not pull away from her, despite any shock he felt at her uncharacteristically vicious words.

"What Judge Voglrson said about you," he paused, his tone guarded, "it was cruel and unforgiveable."

Evelyn's head snapped sharply in his direction, her eyes ablaze with fury. "It was cruel, but I deserved it!" she cried angrily. "I should have kept my distance. I shouldn't have gotten so friendly you. See what's become of it? I don't think I can ever face those people again," she said in rush. Placing her elbows on her knees, she dropped her face into her hands and breathed deeply, her shoulders shuddering.

"No one deserves what that man said to you," Loki said solemnly.

"Don't," she bit out scathingly through her palms.

Evelyn did not look at him. She was struggling not to lose control of her emotions. He breast was burning with unshed tears, her heart aching from humiliation. Eyes closed, Evelyn tried to still her ire at being so utterly degraded. She blamed him. If he had just kept his distance like she had asked him. Yes. It was entirely his fault. She channeled her anger towards him, hating him for having put her in the position to begin with. But who had gone to him during the night all those months ago…

A heavy sigh from beside her distracted her from her resentful thoughts. And then he spoke in his deep, strong voice and she felt her anger dissipate. Her body was powerless to the sense of security that pervaded her being as she listened to the familiar, rumbling timbre of his disarming voice. "You don't have to pretend to be strong. I know you've been hurt. I blame myself and I am sorry," he breathed softly. "I am so very sorry." His cool breath fluttered across her cheek as he leaned his body towards her own quivering form. "Let me be your strength," he whispered. She could almost feel his lips against her temple.

A shiver ran through her when his cool hand pushed her long ponytail over her shoulder, the manacles clanging softly as his cool fingertips deliberately lingered on the back of her neck. Her body shook as a dry sob wracked her body and fled her lips. She didn't know how it happened, but she was suddenly in his arms weeping against his strong chest, soiling his elegant armour with her salty tears and breathing in his heavenly, masculine scent. She could not hold it in any longer. He was willing and she was tired of being strong.

He did not speak, but held her securely to his chest, one hand tracing comforting circles on her back as if it were the most natural thing to do. For several minutes she wept against him, needing him to be her pillar, and damning society's principled ideals of professionalism. She needed him, she realized. He was a part of her life and she would not push him away. Life wasn't always black and white, right and wrong. People would always find fault in what others did, but she didn't care. He made her feel safe. He made her stronger. He left her confused. He often infuriated her. But he made her _happy_, damn it all. He made her happy.

She'd be a fool and a hypocrite if she let others stop her from being a friend to him. She was done sacrificing her happiness for the sake of others. Her job could be performed just as well even as his unorthodox companion. They fit—two distinct personalities from two distinct worlds living two distinct lives. Somehow they fit. Who was she to challenge something that felt so natural?

He held her until her violent sobs subsided into soft sniffles and ragged breaths. His hand had stopped tracing circles between her shoulders some time ago and instead his large hand wrapped gently around the back of her neck, cradling her head against his broad chest. Her eyelids were heavy with sudden drowsiness brought on by the cathartic moment. She wanted to sleep, so comfortable was she curled into his side within the embrace of his arms, her head nestled into the crook of his neck.

With great difficulty, she finally managed to accumulate enough sense and strength to pull away from him. When his arms fell away from her she was left suddenly cold. She ashamedly wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," she hiccoughed lightly. "You must think me incredibly pitiable."

When she lifted her brown eyes, Loki was staring directly at her, his green orbs dark with emotion, roaring like a restless black sea.

"On the contrary; I think you possess a fierceness that you yourself do not even recognize."

The compliment left her cheeks burning red. It was very unlike him to bestow flattering words upon her. "I doubt that," she said, averting her eyes to her hands which she now clasped in her lap.

Loki shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "You really have no idea, do you?" he said, his voice suddenly amused. At her blank stare he continued. "You're remarkable," he breathed, his gaze holding her own captive.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest as a sudden self-awareness overcame her, rendering her hypersensitive to his burning gaze and his proximity to her. She lowered her gaze to his chest, uncertain of how to respond to his strange, honest words. His leather and emerald armour were smeared with tears and she focused on the wet spots, afraid to meet what she was sure was a debilitating gaze.

"Eiron was kind to defend me earlier," she said absently.

"Mm," Loki hummed distractedly.

"So was your father."

She looked up at him then only to find his handsome face contorted into a sneer of derision. "I don't want to talk about him."

"Why not?" Evelyn urged. "We have time to kill."

Loki grimaced. "I have not yet forgiven him, or he I, I assume," he said reluctantly. "He is clearly fond of you to defend you so adamantly in court," he continued bitterly.

Evelyn's eyes softened. "He didn't do it for me alone." He blinked at her, unresponsive. "He did it for you as well. The insinuations were made against us both, don't forget. He was protecting you as much as he was protecting me."

Loki scoffed, a sardonic chuckle fleeing his lips. "That's rich."

A frown crept onto her small pink lips. "It's not a joke, Loki. He _was_ defending you."

"I don't need him speaking for me. I don't need him to protect me. I haven't needed or wanted his attention for years now," he ground out.

"That is most unfortunate to hear," said a heavy voice, weary with age.

Evelyn rose quickly to her feet as Odin entered the small room looking regal in his polished, silver armour and crimson cape.

"Allfather," she breathed in surprise. Loki rose to his feet as well, his graceful movements deliberately slow, his emerald eyes vividly bright as they narrowed into resentful slits.

Evelyn was acutely aware of the painfully palpable tension that descended over the suddenly stifling room. Odin had not spoken directly to him since before his six month stint in solitary confinement wherein he was tortured for his crimes. Only three days ago, during Loki's stay in the infirmary, Odin had visited but once, along with Frigga and Thor, but she knew from Thor that they had not spoken. As the two men now stared at each other, gazes clashing in a silent battle of strength, Evelyn shrank back. She felt like an intruder. There was hardly enough room to contain the authoritative auras of both Loki and Odin.

"What do you want?" Loki snapped, irritated.

"I had wanted to speak with you," Odin said carefully, his single eye unblinkingly boring into his son's face.

Loki laughed bitterly. "You wanted to speak with me," he chuckled again; it was a cold, heartless sound. "You've had ten and a half months to speak to me and yet you choose now. Your timing, Allfather, is impeccable as ever," he jibed.

"Watch your cheek, boy," Odin admonished, lips thinning disapprovingly.

Loki visibly rolled his eyes. "So now you're playing the role of the disciplinarian father. It's a little too late for that, don't you think? Let me catch you up a bit in case you haven't heard," Loki growled. "I'm a convicted murderer."

Odin shook his head sadly. "I know I have disappointed you. I have not always been the best father," he admitted.

Loki scoffed again. "Not always the best father? You were _never _a father."

"That's unfair, Loki," he said, his expression weary.

Loki shook his head, disbelieving. "Where was your fatherly intervention when I was slowly losing sight of what was good and right? Where was your fatherly concern when I was pushed aside and made to watch the golden-child receive your undying praise? I have been deceived by you, neglected by you, unloved by you."

"Loki—

Odin's strained words were rudely interrupted by the rampant Loki.

"No," Loki intoned, his voice menacing. "You had countless opportunities to 'speak' with me, but you never did. Now that you're here, I say you don't get to speak. Hear me when I say: your concern is unwanted and superfluous. Take comfort in knowing that you left your fatherly mark on me. It was your paternal negligence that sent me to a dark place where I was set upon the irredeemable path to my ultimate fall from grace."

Odin's eye narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. If Evelyn wasn't mistaken, a light breeze suddenly swept the room, cold and unforgiving, sending goosepimples exploding across her arms. "Maybe I should go," she said quietly.

"Stay right where you are," Loki snapped, not looking away from his father.

Evelyn swallowed anxiously, his harsh tone arresting her in attempt at escape.

"My father was just leaving," he said emotionlessly.

Odin's chest expanded as he took a deep lungful of air. "Have it your way," he said gravely.

"_My _way?" Loki demanded, anger rising in his voice. "Do you honestly think this is me getting my way? Do you?" he said, nearly shouting now.

Odin did not reply.

Loki swallowed back his impotent rage, his pronounced Adam's apple bobbing roughly. "Get out," he seethed, his tone low and hostile.

Evelyn bit her tongue to keep from scolding Loki for his rudeness. Odin's expression was weathered and sad as he nodded silently and turned to the door. She quickly rushed forward, past Loki to Odin's side. The older man looked down at her, his hardened eye softening.

"Thank you," she said quietly, "for defending us," she finished.

Odin's lips curved into a tired smile. She was stunned into silence when he gently placed a fatherly hand against her cheek. "I did not lie when I said you had both done well for each other," he said kindly.

Evelyn blushed and Odin's hand fell away. He glanced beyond her shoulder, as did she. Loki watched the two of them, the fiery wrath gone from his face, now replaced with removed despondency. Odin left with a nod of goodbye and Evelyn shut the door behind him. She turned to Loki who was sitting now, his head in his hands.

"You could have been a little more civil with him," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she observed the hunch demi-god.

"Don't lecture me, Miss McPherson. The relationship I have with my father cannot easily be repaired," he stated, voice gruff and weary.

Evelyn crossed the room and sat beside him, holding her hands neatly in her lap. "You have to give him a chance."

Loki's head shot up, his eyes flaring scornfully. "I don't have to do anything," he snapped at her, and then sighed, running a tired hand over his face. "Forgive me."

Evelyn watched him carefully for a moment, studying his slack posture and fatigued expression. "Healing is a long and difficult journey. One day you'll be ready and it will unburden you a significant weight of the anger you carry within you," she said sagely.

Loki said nothing in reply, but leaned back against the couch. The remainder of those two hours were spent in relative silence; very few words were spoken between them as trepidation slowly pervaded them once again, killing any conversational mood. Evelyn had believed that they had made a decent case, but with a jury as prejudiced as the one that decided justice in Asgard it was impossible to reassure herself that Loki would be acquitted of all charges.

The guards arrived and once again they were lead into the courtroom to await the verdict. Evelyn felt sick to her stomach as the anticipation and anxiousness heightened in her chest like a dangerously rising sea-level.

Coldness abruptly dripped down her spine, like icy-droplets of water. Evelyn's shoulders stiffened as icy alarm settled in her chest making breathing a difficult feat. It was as if someone's hostile gaze was burning with unsuppressed wrath into the back of her head. She glanced behind her, surveying the assembled citizens seated in the balcony of the court room. They all looked hostile, but she could find none directing looks of menacing hatred towards her. Still unsettled by the sensation, she slowly returned her gaze to the front of the courtroom where the jury was silently entering in a single file, arranging themselves in their respective seats.

Loki was giving her a stern look and she stumbled to her feet, blushing. Judge Voglrson and then the royal family all made their entrances, all the while the fiery gaze searing into her flesh like sunlight through a magnifying glass. She tried her best to ignore the disconcerting sensation and focused on the Honourable Judge's words.

Voglrson turned towards the jury and called upon their representative. A tall, gangly man with white hair down to his shoulders rose to his feet. His crinkled face betrayed no emotion other than stoic indifference as he lifted the sealed letter in his hand—the verdict.

"What has the Honourable Jury found to be the verdict?" he asked.

With spindly fingers shaking lightly with age, the old man slid a single, long digit beneath the sealed flap, popping it open. Evelyn gripped the table in front of her, but then changed her mind and boldly took Loki's manacled hand in hers where it lay upon the table, visible to all those present. They met each other's gazes and Loki's stern, thin-lipped expression softened, squeezing her hand once, before turning back to the jury. It was a daring move and she had never casually held his hand before, but someone it felt right. It gave them both courage.

The wizened man slid a neatly folded parchment from the envelope and unfolded it with deliberate measure. Evelyn wanted to shake him. She just wanted the waiting to be over and to escape the boring gaze that still had not eased from her back.

"The Honourable Jury has found Loki Laufeyson," the representative juror paused, turning his crisp, pale blue eyes to the young prince, "innocent of breaching the terms of his imprisonment with intention of causing harm or escaping his detention."

A cry of strangled joy came from overhead, undoubtedly Frigga, and a gush of relief fled her lungs as tears rose to her eyes. Loki's erect posture notably slackened as well upon hearing the words that neither thought were possible. Somehow those prejudiced old men had accepted her appeal. Justice had been served for Loki.

The juror continued unhindered by the quiet chatter that had broken out above in the gallery. "He is expected to return to his cell to complete his last month and a half of rehabilitation in detention. His visits with Miss McPherson are to continue as per ordained by the courts." The juror gave her a hard stare but Evleyn met his gaze with fierce determination, all previous mortification and humiliation forgotten. She had bested them all and that was vengeance enough. He spoke again. "Treasach will be held in Asgard's penitentiary until further notice while the suspicions of treason are properly and thoroughly investigated."

Judge Voglrson's expression had hardened during the verdict, something akin to disdain on his features. "Let it be known that the Honourable Jury has spoken. This case is closed." He slammed down his gavel and rose sharply from his chair, a look of contempt on his face. The courtroom quickly stumbled to their feet as he and his jury departed along with the royal family.

Evelyn and Loki rose, awaiting their guarded escort. Meanwhile, two guards arrived to drag a murderous-looking Treasach away. As he passed their table his black eyes met her own with sadistic hatred. "You'll pay for this you meddling bitch," he swore under his breath. Evelyn stiffened and Loki placed a hand on her shoulder. Not even his reassuring touch could ease her nerves.

"He's going to prison. There's no way he can hurt you," he said calmingly. "He's all empty threats."

Evelyn nodded, her gaze drifting upward to the gallery just in time to catch sight of a tall, broad-shouldered figure adorned in a hooded black cloak recede into shadows, their face obscured. Disconcertion settled over her body, unable to forget the eyes that had burned through her with vehement hatred. "I'm not so sure," she breathed uneasily.

Loki frowned at her. "No harm will come to you," he reasserted, gently turning her to face him. His eyes found hers and his frown smoothed out into an unreadable expression. "I find myself constantly indebted to you," he mused.

Evelyn shook her head. "I told you I wouldn't walk out of this court without you acquitted of all charges," she said with a small smile. "You should have believed me."

Loki's brows furrowed. "I have always believed you," he said thoughtfully. "You're my angel of salvation," he said softly, tenderly, as his emerald orbs bore into her own. Evelyn felt her eyes drift languidly and involuntarily down to his pink lips, the words spoken by them leaving her a quivering mess of knocking knees and pounding heart. When she lifted her gaze he was still staring at her, clearly aware of the direction of her gaze. She blushed and stepped back from him, but knocked into her chair. She nearly fell onto her buttocks but a guard appeared behind her and quickly steadied her.

"Thank you," she breathed, embarrassed.

"Think nothing of it, Madam," he replied. "I am charged to return Loki to his cell. Your sessions will continue tomorrow. In the meantime, Judge Voglrson has requested you take the rest of the day to revitalize. It has been a taxing trial," he said, brown eyes holding a kindness that she did not expect.

"Of course," she managed shakily, briefly meeting Loki's burning gaze. "Tomorrow, then," she said to him before scurrying out of the emptied courtroom before she could look anymore the fool.

OOOOO

Loki's mortal wench was proving to be more of a nuisance than he had anticipated. He had only permitted her to overhear his conversation the night of the festival for the sake of inspiring her fear. The murder of his consort was a spontaneous decision intended to shake her up a little. He always loved a good spectacle. Her terror sung to her, swelling within him like the sweetest of melodies. Fear was an emotion he basked in, one that reassured him of his power and dominance.

He realized now, soundlessly slipping out of the upper balcony of the agitated court room and down the stairs to the main level, that the mortal woman, Evelyn McPherson, would have been less of a hindrance dead. He regretted not killing her when he'd had the chance. Sometimes the thrill of instilling fear clouded his judgement. He had satisfied his appetites by tasting her distress, and witnessing her pathetic quivering form, crouched in that dank alleyway.

His mind, restless with sinister, thoughts drifted to his oldest consort, Treasach. He had almost ended her life as ordered but he had failed, ultimately. Even his attempt to trick the prince into breaking sentence had failed to have him permanently incarcerated. Now Treasach's cover was properly compromised, and he would have to clean up after his messy trail. He growled angrily at the inconvenience. There wasn't time to find another informant within the palace. His horizons were expanding and Asgard was of little concern to him now. Odin could have his precious little realm. He had his sights set elsewhere.

It was entirely that meddlesome wench's fault. She had thwarted each and every one of his attempts to ruin Loki's chances of freedom. He needed the mischievous demi-god, a fellow practitioner of dark magic, behind bars for the rest of his life if he wanted to achieve his ends. Only the half-blood could match his skill with dark magic. Of course, perhaps there was another option, however unlikely, that his loyalties might be swayed.

The light sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the vacant corridor. He vanished into the looming shadows of a marble statue just as a short, womanly form scurried past, deep brown eyes bright and vital. He sneered at her retreating back, but couldn't suppress the minute admiration he felt for her. She was undoubtedly intelligent, and had she not been so dedicated to the cause of the good, he might have taken her on. He eyed her long, wavy brown hair pulled up into a severe ponytail. His silver eyes languidly slid down the lines of her curvy backside and swaying, voluptuous hips. His eyes flashed cruelly in the darkness.

He could reasonably see why Loki was smitten with her. She possessed an enticing charm and a fiery little spirit that would be only too satisfying to break. Eventually her time would come to meet the unforgiving face of death, but he could still find amusement throughout the process.

Stepping from the shadows now that he was alone, he walked in the opposite direction of the criminologist. It was time for him to make himself known, he decided. It was time for the great and powerful Odin to know exactly who was threatening to rein terror down upon his precious realms.

**Many thanks for all of your reviews, your insights and acknowledgements brighten my day! The next chapter is going to be a little toned down. Things have been very conflict-heavy, so it should be a bit lighter. Don't worry, it's not a filler chapter – I know we all hate those (at least I do). **

**Cheers!**


	17. Impossible or Improbable

**Thank you for all the feedback you guys, and I'm incredibly sorry for the impossible delay—I had a despairing past two weeks with technology and desperately need a new computer, not to mention life was getting me a little down with the immense workload I've had for school. Hope you all enjoy it and let me know how you found it!**

17: Impossible or Improbable

For the three days following the court trial, Evelyn went to visit Loki. They spoke little, mostly of Treasach's conviction and his involvement in the Frost Giant siege. They were both equally convinced of the idea that Treasach was but an extension, a pawn and a puppet, to some greater, evil force. Evelyn was quite sure of it, in fact, reminding Loki of the large, sinister man who she had overhead and witnessed murdering his consort all those months ago. She had shuddered at the memory; his voice was not one she could easily forget, bone-chilling as it was. Yes. They were quite certain indeed that the ultimate enemy behind these treasonous acts lay elsewhere.

Evelyn had not told anyone of the foreboding, hooded figure that she had seen in the courtroom gallery, face concealed in shadows. She knew whoever it was had been the one glaring with blatant hatred into her back during the trial's verdict. It may have been the shadows encircling the figure, but to her perceptive eyes there had been a detectable familiarity in their countenance—the same kind of straight-backed, broad-shouldered, stealthy way in which the man from the streets had carried himself.

On one occasion, Evelyn had attempted to broach the topic of Odin with Loki, but he had growled at her and refused to discuss it. She had cut that visit short because of his foul mood. Aside from that, little of importance was spoken of between them and all conversation of too personal a nature was avoided. The atmosphere behind them had changed since those days of frenzy, and they were in a limbo of sorts. Loki had held her while she cried, had comforted her, yet she did not know what that meant to him or herself. She did not know how to speak to him. On her first day in Asgard she had addressed him with the authority of a determined woman with a job that was safely distanced from her personal life, but now… Now she addressed him as a friend, a trusted companion. The two worlds had been irreparably blended.

She wasn't rehabilitating him anymore, she realized. She was keeping him company, keeping him sane. The line could not be uncrossed, and she would have to, for the next month, keep from spiralling any further into the abyss of unprofessionalism. There were still some things she needed to check off her list however—the initiation of reconciliation with his father would be a significant achievement, the acknowledgement of his crimes, and finally, if possible, some degree of remorse expressed. These were the most pressing matters that she needed him to prove if she was going to give him a sparkling recommendation in four weeks. She would not lie on his behalf, no matter how much she admittedly cared for him. It was because she cared so much that she would not let him disappoint himself.

On the fourth day after the trial, Evelyn decided a walk outside on the grounds would prove rejuvenating for her restless spirit. It was a warm, spring day. On Earth it would have been the equivalent of the end of May, beginning of June. She didn't bother tying her hair up that day, enjoying the sensation of the breeze's gentle caress running invisible fingers through her dark brown locks. Spotting a white, cast iron bench beneath the shade of tree that resembled a Weeping Willow, she settled herself upon it and opened up the pages of her book, _Gone With the Wind._ Thor had, obligingly upon her request, retrieved several of the novels in her possession back in her dormitory in S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters throughout his various trips. She had been pleased when he had brought back the dozen or so that she had listed for him.

It was not often that Evelyn managed to find a few precious hours of respite, but when she did, and was not in the mood to train with Sif, she would always turn to the company of a good book. Perching her oversized glasses atop her head, she began to read.

_"I'm not asking you to understand or forgive. I don't give a damn whether you do either, for I shall never understand or forgive myself for this idiocy…"_

If she closed her eyes she could hear the drawling lilt of Rhett Butler's suave voice; she could see him leaning languidly against the tree, a self-satisfied smirk spread across his red lips, nestled beneath his trimmed, fashionable moustache. She grinned to herself and continued to read.

Time went by as page after page flipped through her nimble fingers. When she was satisfied with her progress, she set the affectionately weathered book aside and tilted her head back, gazing up into the soft, swishing leaves that cascaded down around her, containing her within their hypnotic embrace. Flecks of the brilliant sun shone through the fine parasol of leaves, like magical daytime stars. The entrancing sway of the long, dangling branches lulled her gently into sleep. She hardly realized her own fatigue before she was swept away into surprisingly pleasant dreams.

OOOOO

"Evie."

Someone was shaking her.

"Evie."

With an incomprehensible mumble, Evelyn grudgingly opened her eyes. She blearily blinked back sleep as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed faced swelled blurrily before her.

"Thor," she said, glancing about her, disoriented. Her drowsy gaze took in the Willow tree and her discarded book and her eyes immediately widened. "How long have I slept?" she exclaimed, stumbling clumsily to her feet.

"I cannot say for certain, but it is past luncheon," he kindly offered.

Evelyn squinted at Thor who was still appearing blurry despite her sudden alertness. "You're blurry," she said, dazedly.

With a deep chuckle, Thor plucked her glasses off the top of her head and slipped them onto her face. The fuzziness immediately cleared to reveal a cheekily grinning Thor. She blushed, embarrassed.

"Does that suit you better?" he teased.

With a playful glare, she nodded. She noticed a few figures lingering a few feet away. Sif, Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral, all carrying their respective weapons and dressed in training armour were smiling at her, laughter in their eyes. Clearly they had been returning from a training session when they had happened upon her. Evelyn returned the smile, purposely avoiding eye contact with Fandral. Following their mishap, she had had a difficult time forgiving him. She had, of course, forgiven him since, but now that she knew of his true character, she was less inclined to be civil with him.

"Are you hungry?" Thor inquired, helping her to her feet.

"A little, I suppose," she replied.

"How about a bite to eat before you make your report to S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Thor suggested.

Evelyn groaned inwardly. She had completely forgotten about the scheduled report. "Is that really today?" she asked, reluctantly following Thor and the warriors across the courtyard and into the cool palace halls.

Thor chuckled. "Indeed it is."

A involuntary grimace manifested on her face. That meant she would have to tell Natasha about the assault by Treasach and the court case. There was no way around it, it could not be avoided. It would be a painstaking meeting indeed.

Following a quick meal, Evelyn and Thor left the warriors and made their way to the trans-realm communicator. She had shanghaied Thor into accompanying her when normally he would not. It was not a particular desire of hers to receive Natasha's wrath alone. It had taken some convincing on his part but the kind-hearted giant of a man had crumbled eventually. He too was wary of Natasha's anger having been on the receiving end of it several times before.

The transmitter fired up and the pair waited for the signal to be acknowledged by their Earthly correspondent. After a few minutes, the screen came to life and a scratchy image of Natasha Romanoff came into view. The image flickered for a moment before another figure stepped into the frame of the screen—Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye. Evelyn visibly brightened upon seeing him. It had been five months since last they spoke.

"Hey Natasha," she waved timidly. "Clint, it's so good to see you," she said.

"Likewise, McPherson," he said with a lopsided grin.

Evelyn met Natasha's scrutinizing gaze and felt her blood run cold. All it had taken was a careful glance, now her fair eyebrows were raised dubiously. "What happened? You're not yourself. I can tell." There was never any beating around the bush with the sharp-eyed spy.

An edgy glance at Thor failed to lend her much courage. The demi-god looked just as anxious as she, if not more so. For such a seasoned, intimidating warrior, sometimes he could be as soft as a chastised child.

"It's been a chaotic week," the brunette began guardedly, "but everything's just fine now."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at her with such palpable disdain that even from across realms, and via a poor resolution screen, Evelyn weakened beneath the intensity of her reproach.

"Don't sugar-coat with me, Evie" she scowled disapprovingly. "You and the big friendly giant better man-up and be out with it."

With a solemn nod, Evelyn relented and recounted the events of the past week, from finding Loki battered in his cell to the final verdict of the court trial. She left out details like the ominous presence that she had haunted her during the trial and how, for drawn out moments throughout the days that followed, it seemed to find her still, like a searing, ever-present chill at the base of her skull. She hadn't told anyone about it; she was convinced that she was overreacting. Natasha and Clint listened attentively, nodding and prodding at the appropriate places. Natasha's fierce, green-eyed gaze only darkened more with each new layer of intrigue.

"So this guard, Treasach, he let the Frost Giants in?" Clint asked, shouldering his bow which hung across his broad shoulders.

"He certainly kept the dead zone in the perimeter concealed from detection. It's still being investigated but I have no doubts. We also suspect that he's working beneath someone far more powerful than himself. Loki oversaw the original creation of the perimeter and fortified it with magic. Whoever dismantled a portion of it had to have used darker magic, and Treasach is no sorcerer," Evelyn explained wearily, rubbing her eyes.

Natasha looked furious. "So Asgard is really in the shits then?"

Evelyn winced. "I suppose you could put it that way."

A moment of silence followed wherein no one spoke. Natasha's vibrant eyes flickered brightly and Evelyn could see the workings of a plan formulating beneath her irises.

"We're coming."

Evelyn gaped. "What?"

The red-haired woman smirked. "We're coming to Asgard." She glanced over her shoulder at Clint who smirked as well and jutted his chin out in assent. Evelyn was shocked and at an utter loss for words. She was thrilled at the prospect of having her and Clint's company for the last month, but she was reluctant all the same. She couldn't have them endangering themselves for her sake. "When can you get us?" The question was directed at Thor.

The blonde man was also stumbling for coherent words but quickly found them and ceased in his bumbling. "As soon as this afternoon, if it pleases you," he said stiffly.

"Yeah, it _pleases_ me," Natasha replied with an elaborate eye roll.

Evelyn made a last ditch attempt to sway her and Clint's resolve, knowing that it was a lost battle. Once the red-head's mind was set, she could not be dissuaded. "It's really not necessary. If the Frost Giants attempt another attack then you'll be putting yourselves in danger," she reasoned.

Natasha looked amused. "We're special agents, Evie. We've dealt with this kind of thing before. You weren't on the battlefield when Loki first unleashed those space-bugs on New York."

Thor cleared his throat, getting the women's attention. "It is very gallant of you to want to come to protect Evie, but you must understand that Frost Giants are a dangerous, vengeful breed. Their spite fuels their uninhibited anger towards Asgard. Rest assured that Evie is safe with us."

Clint stepped forward, his hand wrapping securely around Natasha's slim waist. He pulled her affectionately towards him and Evelyn's heart tightened uncomfortably, a small nagging emptiness filled her chest. Natasha and Clint had the perfect romance. They were so compatible, so tuned to each other. It was an enviable relationship.

Clint spoke, "Ever since Evie arrived in Asgard she's had trouble nipping at her heels. First she witnesses a murder and spends a night alone in some strange alley, then she's nearly killed by Frost Giants, then some prick tries to cut her throat, and then some senile geezer humiliates her in front of a courtroom containing less-than-friendly Asgardian citizens. I think it's our right to be concerned. And we're coming," he said with finality.

Evelyn knew that no more would be spoken on this topic, and so she grudgingly relented.

Natasha detected Evelyn's despair and tried to convey the severity of these new circumstances. "Look, Evie," she sighed, running a hand through her short, fiery locks. "If the Asgardians get their asses handed to them on a silver platter, then you can expect Earth to be the second notch in their belt. Asgard and Midgard have a love affair and whoever is out to ruin Odin will also be set on ruining us."

The logic was sound, if not a bit worrisome. Evelyn's thoughts instantly went to her grandfather. Her stomach clenched uncomfortably when she realized just how much she missed him. He would be the first person she called when she returned to Earth in a month—_if she made it until then_, she thought glumly.

With arrangements laid out between Thor and Natasha, it was agreed that they would be in Asgard in time for a proper dinner with the royal family. They parted ways not long afterwards and Thor walked her to Loki's cell. Haward was on duty that day, in fact, he had been consistently on duty for the past few days until a replacement for Treasach could be found. Frankly, Evelyn would have been content if Haward alone oversaw guard duties. She was comfortable around him, and he was a pleasant sort; good-humoured and friendly.

Thor paused at the door as Evelyn wrapped a hand around the knob, the recognition spell unlocking at her presence. "Are you coming in?"

Thor shook his head. "I'm afraid Loki has been rather unfriendly towards me since the trial. I know not why. My presence would only distract him and make him guarded towards you. I think it best if I leave you to it."

Evelyn nodded in understanding and bade him goodbye. He would be off soon to fetch Natasha and Clint. Smiling at Haward and Thor, she gently turned the brass knob and eased the door open, letting herself into the cell that had become as familiar to her as her own private chambers. She found Loki reading in one of the wingback chairs, his long fingers flipping languidly through the pages of a well-worn tome.

A frown graced her face. "You should be more careful. If you get caught with a book that I brought you, I'll be the one who has to pay the consequences," she said stiffly, striding towards the empty wingback, establishing herself in its plush comfort.

Loki's emerald eyes finished scanning a line before he softly closed the book and slid it away from him, across the polished desk top. He fixed her with a stern look, studying her severe expression. "You have a very unassuming manner of letting yourself into my cell. I knew it could be none but you," he said levelly.

"Oh," she sighed.

"Have a little more faith in me, Ms. McPherson. I will not be responsible yet again for jeopardizing your reputation," he continued.

"Yes, well. Just be cautious is all I'm asking," she said.

"I am the soul of discretion."

Evelyn tried to smile, but grimaced instead.

"You're bothered," Loki said, watching intently as she riffled through several documents in her shoulder bag. "You've been withdrawn these past few days."

She looked up, fixing him with a stern look. "I wonder why?" she snapped sarcastically. "It's not like you've been a ray of sunshine. I can barely get an honest word out of you." She briefly closed her eyes and filled her lungs with a long, deep breath, exhaling through her nose before opening her eyes and fixing them on Loki. In a calmer tone, she continued, "In case you've forgotten, I have a month left to work with you, and quite frankly the progress we've made hasn't been as extensive as I had hoped."

Loki frowned. "There have been various setbacks," he reasoned.

"That's not an excuse. We need to undergo changes if we want to walk out of here with our heads held high," she said avidly.

A scoff, followed by a scowl from her companion merited Evelyn's narrowed glare. "There's no 'we' in this equation. My condemnation is not yours," he said flatly.

It was Evelyn's turn to scoff. "You can be such an idiot, Loki." His emerald eyes darkened, narrowing into slits, his lips pursing as if offended. "Of course there's a 'we'. I may not be the one being punished for murder, but I've put all my faith in this process and I will not see every bit of progress go to waste. I won't disappoint you or myself." Shaking her head, she sighed. "Honestly, sometimes I think that I'm more invested in your rehabilitation than you." Her tone was brusque, and she was suddenly too tired to conceal her frustration.

Loki did not say anything, content to watch her fume silently. When neither spoke for a drawn out minute or so, he took initiative. "What would you have me do?"

Evelyn glanced up at him, taken aback. "Just like that? You've been so insufferably reticent this week and now you've finally decided to speak?"

"I thought it time to end your evident agony," he said evenly, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

She glared at him, displeased with his lack of seriousness. This wasn't a joke to her, nor should it be one to him. "Your probation is almost up and I'm going to have to give the court a profile of your initial psyche and exit psyche. You're going to have to open up to me, Loki, more so than ever before. I won't recommend you unless I am sure, without a trace of a doubt, that you can be reintegrated into society. I need to know if your motives for attacking Earth in the first place are still liabilities now. I need to know that you're mature and civil enough to reconcile with your estranged father. I need to know if you have any remorse, any guilt about the innocent blood on your hands. I need to know if you are capable of compassion,' she finished breathlessly.

Loki's eyes darkened dangerously as he openly glowered at her. "I think you know, better than anyone else, that I am capable of compassion."

Evelyn smiled sadly, thinking of the few times he had defended her, administered to her, and broken sentence to save her. He was a changed man from whence she'd first known him. "I've befriended you, Loki, which necessarily implies compassion. I need to know that you are capable of compassion with strangers as well. You can be very cruel and cynical," she reasoned.

Loki's frown deepened, his fists clenching.

"Let's create a hypothetical scenario, shall we?" she asked. When he did not respond, brooding silently, she continued. "If you saw a mortal being mugged in the streets would you pause to help her or avert your gaze and walk away? Or better yet, if your ego was wounded, just as it was when you first unleashed hell on Earth, would you relapse into heinous killing?"

Loki's frame seemed to quake with anger, his green eyes filling with blatant rage. "Do you really think that poorly of me?" he hissed. "You told me once that you did not think me a monster. If you truly think me capable of repeating such cruelty then you clearly do not know me as well as you pretend to," he said, his voice raised in anger.

Evelyn winced. In her heart, deep within its profoundest recesses, she knew he would never do something that cruel again—he had her utmost faith; but she needed to get him angry, needed him to abandon his armour to rage and finally admit the truth without beating around his guilt.

"You've killed innocent mortals before, men and women alike," she prodded, unmoved by his rage. "Who is to say that you won't do it again?"

He flew to his feet in a fury, carrying himself across the room, towering furiously above her where she sat curled in the wingback chair. His temper was beyond control now, his nostrils flaring. "That was nearly a year ago. I was retaliating against the patronizing and dismissive manner in which my father treated me, against the overwhelming shadow of my older brother's success, against the truth of my heritage and the betrayal that plagued the blackest part of my soul. Damn it all, I was angry!" he roared. "I was blind to reason, overcome by rage. I regret the bloodshed I inflicted on your people. Should the rest of the world ever find it within their hearts to forgive me, I could still never forgive myself."

His broad shoulders heaved beneath the wracking breaths he was drawing in through his open mouth. Evelyn met his tortured green eyes as he stood above her, glaring down at her with ire and betrayal, frustration and despair. His pale, calloused hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"Thank you," Evelyn breathed softly, releasing the breath that she had been holding in her chest cavity.

His contorted expression slowly fell into one of confusion, his shoulders slackening. "What?"

"Thank you for admitting your regret to me," she clarified. "I never doubted that you would not return to your old ways, surely you know that. I'm sorry I had to rile you to get that response but you've been so bloody guarded that my patience has just about had it," she explained hastily, looking up at him with an expression that pleaded forgiveness.

His handsome face was set into a stern expression, his gaze lifted upward, directed to the expanse of wall behind her. He seemed to ponder this for a few moments before returning his gaze to hers. She was relieved to see all hints of anger dissipated. Instead, a mischievous grin upturned the corner of his thin lips. "You conniving little fox," he mused softly. Evelyn's cheeks burned red hot, her dark eyes widening. "I fear I have rubbed off on you."

She quickly averted her gaze, hypersensitive of her furiously blushing cheeks. Her body stiffened when Loki gracefully kneeled before her, his cool index hooking beneath her chin as he lifted her gaze, forcing her to look him in the eye. He tutted quietly. "Don't shy away from me, Miss McPherson. I admire you gall. Not many would have the courage to intentionally fire my temper as you have done."

She bit her lip, willing her cheeks to stop reddening under his scrutiny. He completely unsettled her when he paid such close attention to her.

"I quite like the way you blush at the simplest phrases," he mused, the pad of his thumb absently brushing her hot, reddened flesh. The distinct contrast between her burning skin and his icy thumb shocked her. "I find it very appealing," he murmured, attentively exploring the planes of her face with his alert eyes, as if she were the Mona Lisa itself.

"Stop that," she whispered, her voice quivering.

Loki's hand abruptly fell away from her face. He rose to his feet with mechanic coolness. "I see we're back at this 'distance' issue again. If I am not mistaken, the damage has been done. The ship of professional distance sailed some time ago," he said humorously.

Evelyn looked up at him, her brown eyes apologetic. "I know we're beyond professional distance; I've accepted this friendship—this amity between us. That's not why I—," she paused, "I can't—." She huffed, frustrated with her lack of verbal grace. She was normally so confident with words, but they seemed to be failing her left and right, taunting her inability to think cohesively in his stifling presence. "You make me uncomfortable," she managed finally.

"Uncomfortable?" He looked affronted.

"Yes. I've never particularly enjoyed being paid attention to, and you can be so intent and intense at times that it unsettles me."

Loki had the nerve to laugh at her. She clenched her fists, angry at his insensitivity and rose defensively to her feet, her cheeks reddening once again.

"You've made a profession out of analyzing people. Surely you of all people can handle a little attentive scrutiny," he taunted.

"Don't mock me," she intoned through grinding teeth.

Loki paused, his smile fading upon realizing her lack of humour. "I would never dare to mock you," he said softly, eyeing her carefully.

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I tend to fly under the radar; it's where I'm comfortable. It's easy to pass as invisible when you don't want to be seen." Evelyn closed her mouth abruptly, mortified that she was opening up to him about herself. She had been so careful to keep her personal life out of their sessions, so why did she feel so inclined to share her tale of woe with him now?

"I don't know why you would want to go unnoticed, nor how anyone could so easily disregard you," Loki said, frowning. "You have the most vibrant aura. Surely friends and the men you've been with have seen that. Surely any mortal man can see that, oblivious as they are to most things. Your presence is incredibly bright, blindingly so. I don't think I could overlook you if I tried."

Evelyn stared at him, thoroughly confused by his words. She didn't quite know what to make of them. No one had ever said something like that to her before and she was moved. Deciding to forego responding directly to his admission, she instead corrected his assumption, "I've never been in a relationship before."

Loki's spine straightened as he looked disbelievingly down his nose at her. "Excuse me?"

"I've never dated," she repeated. The overwhelming desire to smack herself or cover her mouth with her palm swept through her.

Loki looked speechless to say the least. "How is that possible? I find that very hard to believe," he stated. His eyes had darkened into intent emerald lenses.

Evelyn shrugged. "I was always inclined towards academia. It consumed my life, and when you ascend the ranks as quickly as I did, there's no time for a proper relationship. I'm also painfully shy, which I suppose kept prospects at bay."

"You're not shy with me," Loki said thoughtfully.

Evelyn smiled softly. "No. No I'm not. It's easy to be myself when I'm around you," she admitted.

Loki slipped his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, rocking on his heels, his eyes never straying from her face. "How old are you? If I may ask, that is," he added quickly.

Evelyn was a bit surprised. "I turned twenty-four three weeks ago, May fourteenth," she replied. In fact, until he had brought it up she had completely forgotten about her own birthday. The past five months had been a whirlwind that she'd completely forgotten. Not that she particularly minded. She had never been one for birthdays.

"Remarkable. Twenty-four and never been kissed," he mused, roguish grin gracing his lips as he stepped closer to her so that their bodies were but inches apart. She was forced to strain her neck to look up into his face. "Shall I amend that for you?" he asked suavely, tilting his head downward.

Evelyn's lips fell open in surprised, but she was too stunned by his forwardness to speak. She felt the cold ghost of his fingertips at her waist, saw the desirous darkening of his eyes, felt his warm breath cascade across her cheek. Her stomach knotted, her heart leapt, but then she twisted out of his grip, nearly toppling head over heels in the process.

Loki remained where he was, watching her with that frightening and unreadable dark look.

"I have to go," she breathed shakily. She couldn't look at him as she snatched her bag from the ground and hurried from his cell, shutting the door soundly behind her. Her back leaned heavily on the cold wood, her eyes closed as she begged her heart to calm its frenzy. Was he really about to kiss her? She couldn't think straight, couldn't decipher from the confusion overriding her senses whether the notion upset or pleased her.

When she opened her eyes, Haward was watching her intently. She blushed.

"Everything all right in there, Miss McPherson?" he asked, concern saturating his tone.

She shook her head, hardly trusting her voice. "Fine. It's fine. Thanks."

Breathlessly, she then flew down the stairs.

OOOOO

True to his word, Thor arrived with Natasha and Clint in time for dinner with the Allfather and Frigga. They were decked in their leathers and polyesters, weapons on hand, and they looked utterly mystified. She could empathize with their awe; she had been the same upon her initial arrival in Asgard. The women greeted each other tenderly, embracing tightly as they clung to one another's shoulders. It had been so reassuring to have Natasha with her, to finally have a confidante. And Clint was as sarcastic and teasing as she remembered.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Natasha and Clint, being unassuming and unaccustomed to opulence, were ill-at-ease with the extravagant fuss being made over them by the magnanimous Frigga. Thor was just as eager as they to escape the dining hall. Clint, who was unsurprisingly sharing a room with Natasha, left with Thor to examine the perimeter and go over guard duties and security plans, kindly leaving the girls to catch up some.

That's what the two friends were up to when the grandfather clock struck ten o'clock later that evening. Conversation had flowed easily between them and Natasha, much to Evelyn's delight had had a full report on her grandfather and his health. It brought tears of relief and gratitude to her eyes to know that she could rely on Natasha to keep a diligent eye on him.

Supressing a yawn, Evelyn curled deeper into the armchair nestled into a snug corner of the room. Natasha was perched against the pillows of her bed, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top, hands wrapped loosely about her knees.

"Tony misses the hell out of you," Natasha said with a knowing smile. "You were always so easy to tease. He could get such a rise out of you."

Evelyn smiled, reminiscencing. Despite feigning annoyance with Tony's incessant mocking, she really did enjoy their camaraderie.

"He was impossible when he found out Clint and I were going to Asgard. He whined like a petulant toddler until Clint finally reasoned with him stay at S.H.I.E.L.D. and keep a close eye for anything remotely supernatural," Natasha said. She had informed the team back home of a possible Frost Giant threat and they were currently occupying themselves with their surveillance systems.

"I miss him," Evelyn sighed. "I miss all of them."

"Cheer up, kiddo. It's just one more month and then it's 'hasta la vista'," she said reassuringly. Evelyn's smile abruptly faded, her dark eyes clouding forlornly.

"Oh no," Natasha's voice cut sharply through her sudden despair. "It's the look. You're wearing _the _look."

"What look? I'm not wearing anything of the sort," Evelyn said defensively, averting her gaze.

"Unh-unh. Don't lie to me, Evie. I can see it written all over your face."

The brunette frowned, shaking her head exasperatedly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're wearing the same look you wore before Thor swept you away to Asgard," Natasha said with matter-of-fact certainty. "You don't want to go, do you?"

Evelyn's eyes narrowed. "That's not…" her voice faded out.

As she mulled over Natasha's words, she was stricken by their truth, a truth that she had been unconsciously supressing until Natasha's words had made it manifest. She realized, much to her chagrin, that despite the harrowing experiences she had gone through since being in Asgard, she really did love it. It was a beautiful city, and those who she had befriended were such caring, welcoming people.

Her vision abruptly filled with emerald malachite as her frayed thoughts drifted to Loki. He, more than anyone else, had become very dear to her, though she would never admit as much. She didn't want to abandon their unorthodox friendship. She felt so connected with him at times that it frightened her, and the very thought of being separate from him shook her to the core.

Natasha nodded, smiling triumphantly. "I knew it," she said simply.

Evelyn turned her gaze towards the red-head, the stunned expression on her face unconcealed. "Know what? I've made friends. I'd hate to leave them," she said carefully, trying her best to control her overly expressive features.

Natasha's green eyes narrowed and Evelyn cursed her perceptiveness. No secrets were safe when Natasha was in the vicinity, especially when those secrets were her own. Natasha could read her so well—she was the only one, most likely because they were such good friends.

"It's him, isn't it?"

Evelyn's blood ran cold, her eyes locking with Natasha's.

"It's late and I'm tired. You've probably had an exhausting day with all this inter-realm travel," she mumbled quickly, unfolding her limbs and rising stiffly from her seat, brushing nonexistent fluff from her pajama pants.

"Don't you walk away from me," Natasha said, agilely rolling off the bed and heading her off. "Let's talk about this."

Evelyn's shoulders stiffened. "There's nothing to talk about," she said coldly, fixing her gaze steadily on the door of the bedroom, a beckoning escape that was tauntingly out of reach. She was desperate to escape Natasha's unwanted questions. When the spy did not move away, hands planted firmly on her hips, her stance wide, Evelyn sighed, defeated. She gave the spy a pleading look. "Do we have to do this now?"

"You'll have to do it eventually and there's no time like the present," Natasha said, her tone serious.

"I don't know what you expect me to say," Evelyn said wearily, rubbing a hand over her tired face.

"Be honest. You like him, don't you?"

Evelyn's hand fell away from her face, her body draining of blood, leaving her cold and trembling. "We're friends," she breathed.

Natasha shook her head. "You care about him. It's obvious; at least it is to me."

"Of course I care about him. He's my companion," Evelyn reasoned, straightening her spine as she willed the drained colour to return to her cheeks.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I don't mean platonically."

"You're insane," Evelyn muttered, agilely side-stepping the redhead and striding towards the door. Her closest friend did not stop her.

"Am I?" Natasha asked.

Evelyn's hand fell upon the knob. She paused and glanced over her shoulder, her dark eyes saddened. "We lead very different lives, Natasha. Anything more than friendship is impossibility."

"It's improbability. Which is very different from impossibility," Natasha said thoughtfully. "You've got a month until we're homebound. I suggest you figure out whatever rampant emotions are undoubtedly troubling you," she continued, softer now. "Just remember, living with regret is sometimes a fate worse than death."

With those dreary words weighing down her being, Evelyn bid Natasha goodnight and shuffled wearily to her own private chambers.

OOOOO

Evelyn tossed and turned that night, unsettled by the day's events. With a groan, Evelyn flipped onto her back. Her mind was groggy with exhaustion, but unable to succumb to merciful sleep. There were so many thoughts running through her mind, and despite her best efforts she could not effectively silence them.

Whenever she closed her eyes she saw those bright emerald orbs and heard the deep voice speaking to her in lulling tones. A shudder raced through her body and she cursed Loki's relentless omnipresence. Why could she not escape him? Why did he have such a hold on her? And then Natasha, with her preposterous accusations that, after some time pondering over were in fact not as preposterous as originally deemed, beleaguered her mind. The word regret haunted her like a ghost she could not escape.

Rolling onto her side, Evelyn stared blankly into the shadowy corners of her room. The darkness seemed to move, sway, advance, then recede as if in possession of a physical body. Evelyn sat up sharply in her bed, clutching the eiderdown in between her fists, drawing it up to her chin. Something wasn't right; her instincts were screaming at her in warning. Cold fear gripped her heart and she was rendered immobile, a heavy fog settling over her consciousness.

The shadows advanced towards her like a demonic presence. She desperately wanted to flee, but to no avail. Her body would not respond as the blood ran like bitingly cold ice through her veins. She engaged in a silent, blind struggle with the cruel, disembodied force that surged against her, bending her to its will. She fought the invisible, clammy hands that threatened possession, their toxic, ill-will pressing in on her, suffocating her. She fought. She fought terribly hard. Darkness crept like fog, seeping into the fabric of her mind. Her lips fell open in a silent scream, her eyes enlarging. Convulsing violently, her fingers opened and closed feverishly, grasping desperately for leverage that was not there. Her breathing was heavy and shallow.

Her frightened pupils turned ebony black, her fearful expression fading into one of stoicism. A few seconds later the blackness receded into the shadows from whence it came and her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. Collapsing back onto her bed, she knew no more, but the lingering whisper of a hiss, "Sweet dreams, pet."

**Hope it was worth the wait. Sorry again for the delay!**

***You don't have to read the following, it's a response to a critique from a guest reviewer***

**Annika: You said that my "ignorance" of criminology is "insulting" and that my lack of knowledge of the professional field of criminal profiling/psychology makes me come across as "blundering like a lame elephant." Perhaps a little harsh for a Fanfiction, yeah? It was not my intention to offend anyone. I don't pretend to be knowledgeable in criminology. Honestly, I just wanted to write a decent, entertaining story with a fresh character. At the end of the day, I'm an English student with a love of storytelling. I don't really have the time to do extensive research for a Fanfiction. If this were the premise of a novel I intended to publish, then I certainly would have spent months researching and conducting interviews to perfect my character, terminology and practices first. I'm not going to change Evelyn or my plans for this story to accommodate the technicalities of criminology. I apologize if this disappoints anyone. And the uninformed assumption that I use popular TV crime shows for my knowledge is preposterous. I ventured to watch a few once but they all bored me to tears (no offence to anyone who enjoys watching them—it's a matter of personal taste) and I have not watched any since. When I first started writing I had thought to myself, 'what's a legitimate reason for someone to spend six months in Asgard with a mass murderer?' I initially did a bit of research online, liked the sound of criminal profiling, and ran with it. I'm sorry if you find Evelyn "wildly unbelievable" because of this. I assure you that I'm doing my best with the given time on my hands. Hopefully you can still enjoy the character development and the plot intrigue. Cheers.**


	18. Alberic

**I'm so humbled by the positive feedback—and so many reviews—nineteen of them! I've never had so many for one chapter. Thank you all so much! I couldn't ask for better readers. You sincerely brighten my day. **

18: Alberic

Loki was jolted from his thoughts the following mid-morning by the rude intrusion of his oafish brother. An automatic scowl graced his lips as the blond demi-god thundered into his chambers. Loki paid him no mind at first, little inclined to be polite with him. Ever since the trial he had been short and distant with Thor. There was no legitimate reason as to why he should be. Perhaps it was due to his wounded pride, which had rendered him acutely aware of his lesser moral character in comparison to his brother. Reconciled as he was with Thor, resentment was at times a dominant emotion that proved somewhat of a challenge to dismiss.

Sighing, he glanced fleetingly at his older brother, and immediately rose to his feet. His mind was as sharp as ever and the troubled expression on his brother's normally jovial face, not to mention the presence of two painfully familiar S.H.I.E.L.D. agents was indication enough that something was severely wrong. His observant emerald eyes carefully scanned the faces of the three intruders. His gut twisted uncomfortably when he failed to see Miss McPherson among them. Something was very wrong indeed.

"What's happened?" he asked slowly, his eyes shifting to Thor.

Clint Barton, the mortal who he had once possessed, long ago, forcing into his servitude was glowering at him with palpable vengeance. "What did you do to her, you arrogant lowlife?" he demanded, his grip tightening over his bow.

The redhead, Natasha, he recalled, placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Clint," she intoned warningly.

He shrugged off her hand and strode towards Loki with burning hate in his eyes. "What the hell have you done?"

Loki frowned, his posture straightening defensively. "I have no idea as to what it is you are accusing me of," he replied calmly, eyes training distastefully on the shorter man.

"What did you do to her? What did you do to Evie?"

His primary concern was affirmed from Clint's inquiry, and a terrible, cold grip wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing tightly. His stomach twisted in such a way that it was suddenly painful to breathe. "What's happened to Miss McPherson?" he asked, his voice wavering despite his best attempts at keeping it level.

Natasha stepped towards him, her expression stern and morose but not accusing like her companion. "We're not entirely sure," she ventured cautiously.

"She's possessed," Clint snapped impatiently, his eyes boring with unrepressed hatred through Loki's face.

If possible, the colour drained from Loki's already colourless face. "Possessed?" The word tumbled clumsily from his mouth like an uttered vulgarity. He looked over at Thor who was rubbing a weary hand across his face.

"Don't act so surprised," Clint sneered. "You would know all about possession. No one's forgotten how you took away my freedom and enslaved me to your will."

Loki ground his teeth, glaring at the impudent man. "Yes, well that was quite some time ago. I've acquired a nascent form of morality since then," he scowled.

Clint's clenched fist suddenly flew towards his face, but the tall god easily caught it in his own hand. With a cruel smile, he twisted the spy's wrist to the extremity before breaking point. "Do not lay hand on me, you presumptuous dolt," he hissed threateningly.

"Enough, Loki."

Thor's deep voice, a quiet but deep interrupting sound, redirected Loki's attention. He thrust the man's arm away with disgust, his thoughts returning to Miss McPherson. "Tell me what's going on," he demanded. "What do you mean, she's possessed?"

Thor licked his lips, his eyes briefly meeting Natasha's. "Evie was seen leaving early this morning," he began cautiously. "She set a course towards the Asgardian penitentiary."

A frown contorted Loki's face. "Why would she go anywhere near there? It's dangerous territory."

"Let me finish," Thor chided. Loki glared at him but obligingly fell silent. "She walked right in, and when the guards made to stop her," he paused, hesitant. "She was armed with a Dark Elf sword, Loki. She killed five guards."

Cold shock claimed his body, disbelief permeating his body and immobilizing him. She would never—she could never. "That's preposterous," he breathed.

Thor nodded. "Indeed. When Evie was suspected of murder all those months ago following the festival, it was determined that a Dark Elf sword had been the murder weapon. When she was asked to wield it in a re-enactment of the scene she was knocked out cold in seconds from the magic."

Understanding penetrated the cloud of disbelief that had descended upon him. "Dark magic. You think someone's essence is occupying her body, controlling her?" The notion left Loki feeling thoroughly sick to his stomach. The thought of her innocent, delicate hands being forced to commit such atrocities was degrading—disgusting. Possession was the only reasonable answer. He knew Evelyn McPherson, perhaps better than most, and cold-blooded murder was not among her extensive and impressive list of abilities and talents.

Abrupt rage consumed him, filling him with such absolute fury that he was not disillusioned to the fact that he could easily kill whoever had dared to taint her. When she overcame the possession and learned of what she had done, he knew that she would never be able to forgive herself. It would destroy her.

"Where is she now?" he asked, his voice deadly low, his eyes ablaze with wrath. Thor gave him a warning look, pleading with him to maintain a degree of sense, of reason. But Loki was beyond reason. He was set to kill.

"We lost contact with the penitentiary. Apparently news of her murderous path reached the inmates ears and has worked them into a furious frenzy. They've begun retaliating against the Prison Guard. Several have attempted escape and are running loose within. It's a mess. Evie's breach caused the entire edifice to go under lockdown. We don't know what's going on inside," Thor said, his blue eyes conveying distress.

Loki's nostrils flared. "You mean to tell me," he began through gritted teeth, "that Miss McPherson is meandering alone, most likely unprotected save for a Dark Elf sword, through a prison brimming with rampant thieves, murderers and rapists, all the while not in her right mind?" he probed.

"That would be a justified assumption," Thor murmured warily.

Loki's impressive frame was quaking with anger now. He closed his eyes, fists clenching as he tried in vain to calm himself, to no avail, of course. His chest was tight with an emotion unfamiliar to him. It was painful and nagging and insistent. An image of her upturned, wide brown eyes and parted lips from the previous day came to mind with unsettling clarity. He would have kissed her then, he had wanted to so incredibly badly, with such longing that it was agonizing. Her rejection had stung him, but had also fuelled his unfathomable need for her. Yes. _Need_. He yearned for her, damn it to hell; she made him burn. He growled, deep in his chest, a rumbling, predatory sound as his eyes flashed open with vivid awareness.

He was afraid, he realized. That foreign, nagging sensation was fear, something he had scarcely ever allowed himself to feel. Very little had ever frightened him, and in the past year, well, things had not so much frightened him as irked and unsettled him. He had been steeled against fear—until now. To know that Miss McPherson was being corrupted by the possession of some dark will and left vulnerable among loosed criminals—it filled his heart with debilitating terror.

His darkening, green-eyed gaze fell on the man who went by 'Hawkeye'. There was accusation in his gaze and it angered Loki. How could he think that he would possess or aid another in possessing her? "You think me capable of committing such treachery against Miss McPherson?"

Clint snarled back at him. "I know you're capable of it," he said assuredly.

"How dare you? You know nothing of me," Loki hissed, taking a menacing step towards him. Clint stood his ground, and Thor swiftly placed himself between them, an authoritative hand on either's shoulder.

"Enough of this foolishness," Thor said angrily. "I know my brother incapable of such an offense. He has been stripped of all magic." He turned to Loki, fixing him with his clear blue gaze. "And I know that he cares far too much for Evie to ever hurt her."

Clint scoffed, but Natasha silenced him with a withering look. She turned her sharp green eyes to Loki. "I have it under Evie's good authority that you've changed. I believe her. But if you know about anyone who might have wanted to hurt her—If you know of any dark sorcerers who perhaps might have reason to have a vendetta against her, or yourself, since clearly the two of you are irreparably linked to one another, then you have to tell us."

Respect for the level-headed mortal woman flickered within him. If she was a trusted companion of Miss McPherson, then she merited his approval. The reels of his mind worked faster than ever before as he desperately sought out a face, an old acquaintance or friend, a fellow practitioner of dark magic who might have cause to harbour a vendetta against himself, and consequently Miss McPherson. Every time he happened upon a previous, probable confrère, his vision swelled with the image of Miss McPherson being beaten and ravished by monstrous criminals. He couldn't think clearly because his every thought was haunted by her face—he could think of nothing else and it aggravated him. He needed to attain clarity; he needed to think straight and proper.

He was saved the trouble of further wracking his muddled brain when Haward abruptly threw open the door of his cell, a look of irritation and disfavour manifest on his normally pleasantly composed face.

His words sent Loki's heart plummeting to his feet.

OOOOO

When Evelyn came to, she was shivering from cold and vividly aware of having been previously terrified by some currently hazy circumstance. Her chocolate brown eyes, blurry with tears behind the smudged frames of her glasses, fought to steady the world that seemed to be swaying and tilting violently before her vision. Something unforgivably hard and jagged was pressing into her left cheek. Her mind was regaining clarity and awareness, but her body was refusing to respond, was retaliating.

She could not recall where she was, nor what had happened to her. The last she remembered… Her mind fought through the halting haze, probing for recollection, desperately groping through the fog for some grounding, some anchor to help her situate herself in the present.

A sharp hitch of breath caught in her throat as she suddenly recalled the darkness, the invisible entity that had consumed her, had permeated her very soul and twisted it with black, cruel hands. Her shivering became more fierce as the memory of the sinister force struck her clear as day. That's why she was so terrified. But what had become of her after that?

With immense effort that left her with a pounding headache, like a legion of drill bits being taken to her skull, she willed her limbs to abide by the law of her mind. Her surroundings steadied and she realized that she was laying on a cold, stone floor, her eyes levels with the coarse, unpolished grey stone. Slowly and lethargically, she dragged herself onto her hands and knees. A groan fled her lips as her head span from the motion, bile rising in her throat in protest. Her cheek was burning and she lightly pressed her index to it. When she drew the finger back to eye-level, she found it coated in blood. Her head swam dizzyingly.

There was so much blood. She examined the bloodied finger, but the bright, crimson stain did not end there. It trailed down her finger, coating her entire hand. It was smeared down the length of her arm as if painted on with generous brushstrokes. She didn't understand why there was so much blood. Frightened and nauseated, she looked to her other hand. It too was coated with scarlet blood, the metallic smell abruptly searing her nostrils. But whose blood was it? Surely not hers? An overwhelming sense of nausea swept through her and she fell onto her rear, her eyes identifying a nearby corner. She dragged her pitiably limp body towards it, planting her hands on the equally coarse stone walls and began to dry heave as sickness washed through her bodily systems. Her eyes burned with tears, her throat with fire as she heaved and choked on her salty tears.

"You look absolutely frightful, my dear," mused a deep voice.

Evelyn's shoulders tensed, her entire body going rigid with horrified recognition. With her palms still pressed to the wall, she swallowed back the sickening sensations. The voice was unmistakable. She had never forgotten it since the night she had first heard it in town. She couldn't even say that she was surprised to know it was him. Somehow she had always known that he'd return to her life in some way or another.

"I thought you had a stomach for the sight of blood," he taunted. "You were silent and still as the grave when I murdered my companion in front of you that night after the festival."

Fear ran like ice through her veins, biting and cruel. So he had seen her. All along he had known that she had witnessed the murder, which meant that he had known she would report it. She didn't understand why, couldn't think straight.

"Look at me," the voice commanded.

Evelyn steeled her resolve and did not turn from the corner.

"I said, look at me," he repeated, his tone lowering.

When she refused to comply, a strong hand knotted in her hair and yanked her around, still on her knees. She screamed and fought against the unforgiving hold, desperately but vainly attempting to pry the fingers from her hair.

"I admire your spirit, Miss McPherson. You possess a remarkable strength that is to be esteemed by people of power, like myself."

Evelyn fought tears as the hand in her hair twisted, tugging sharply at her scalp. She winced and closed her eyes, refusing to cry before the murderous madman.

"That's quite enough, Treasach. You many release her."

The fist in her hair withdrew abruptly and she caught herself on the floor with her hands. Evidently Treasach and the madman were inextricably linked; she had correctly assumed their connection. The hand returned, however, this time grabbing her by the collar of her black, long-sleeved shirt and yanking her onto her feet. She came face to face with none other than Treasach, a cruel smile plastered on his arrogant face.

"Miss me?" he cooed mockingly.

"How could I miss the scum under my shoe?" she spat back.

His nostrils flared and he slapped her hard across the cheek, the offended flesh stinging from the force. It was only his grip on the collar of her shirt that kept her upright. Her eyes blazed with hatred but she said and did nothing to indicate her agony. She would not let him be satisfied by reaping the sadistic reward of her pain.

Treasach dragged Evelyn towards the opposite stone and mortar wall. A distressing realization suddenly overcame her as she finally took a moment to survey the section of the room in her line of vision. They were in what appeared to be a cell—certainly not one she had ever beheld. Rough stone walls contained the eight by eight foot, windowless jail. The wall Treasach was pulling her towards consisted of two pairs of manacles. There were no windows from what she could see, and from her peripheral she saw a heavy wooden door set into the wall, inlaid with a small grill, barely the size of an envelope.

He thrust her forwards, against the wall and grabbed one of the manacles. She fought him, beating his chest and clawing at his face, but still suffering from her daze and weakened strength, she was fairly powerless to his will. In a few seconds her wrists were dangling beside her head in the manacles, her elbows bent, shoulders drooping with defeat. Vulnerability tasted sharp and metallic on her tongue. The incessant shivers racing through her had ceased but occasionally a burst of wracking tremors would shake her body.

For the first time, she looked up at the man whose memory had haunted her ever since the night of the festival. He was tall, easily Loki's height, but his entire frame was broader and bulkier, like Thor's. She was surprised by how young he was. If he were a mortal she'd coin him as brink of fifties. His short hair was charcoal grey, his skin tanned, and his full pink lips were twisted into a sinister sneer worthy of the most heinous of fictional antagonists' admiration. But it was his eyes, unnaturally black, as if pupil and iris were one, that drained the blood from her veins; that caused cold sweat to coat her pale flesh; that caused her heart to pound against the cage of her chest as it desperately sought to flee the menacing gaze. There was something serpentine about those black pools.

His lips curved into a wide smile, brilliantly white teeth momentarily distracting her thoughts. "How impossibly rude of me," he purred, slinking towards her with a silent, lethal grace that contradicted the large, muscular mass of his body. He paused two feet in front of her, and she instinctively recoiled against the wall. She was quite literally trapped, but the notion of trying at least reassured her own pride. "My name is Alberic," he said, his black orbs trained on her own chocolate brown ones. Perturbed, she had to look away from him, disturbed by the unseeing, yet undressing effect of his eyes.

He continued, unbothered by her refusal to look at him. "I was once a colleague of Loki's. We studied together, practiced magic and other such mischievous arts. But that was centuries ago. We parted ways when I chose to travel down the route of dark magic. He would have followed along with me, but he's far too loyal to family, especially the Queen. Loki wasn't as eager as I was to learn how to manipulate death and use it to control others. He had limits—limits that made him weak."

Evelyn said nothing as he spoke. She knew that he wasn't really addressing her, but rather was ruminating on a long ago past, one that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the apparent rivalry between him and Loki.

His burning hand grabbed her face, his fingers digging unforgivingly into her cheeks, forcing her head to face him. She stared into the endless void of his disturbing eyes. They were empty of warmth, of humanity. All goodness wiped clean leaving but a black abyss of darkness, of unspeakable evils.

"You must be wondering where you are," he mused, releasing her face, but holding her gaze.

Evelyn swallowed but still did not dare to speak.

He frowned. "Your silence disappoints me, Miss McPherson, for I do love your fiery spirit. Have you nothing to say to me?"

She licked her dry, cracked lips. There was only one thing that she wanted to know that he could tell her at the moment. "Why am I covered in blood?" she asked. Her voice was soft but rasping, her throat still burning from dry-heaving against the wall.

He chuckled darkly. "Is that all?" When she nodded, he continued. "I shall tell you. It's quite simple. Last night I entered your bedchamber and possessed your body. This morning I had you come to Asgard's penitentiary where we could meet," he said, as if it were completely obvious

Evelyn's body went rigid and cold, her eyes widening with horror. "Possessed?" she whispered, scarcely allowing herself to believe that such a thing could be true. But of course she knew it could be true. Had not Loki done so to Clint, among others?

"Mm," he hummed in reply. "As in controlled your will," he clarified, black eyes twinkling.

A stomach-turning sense of defilement swept through her. She felt abused and dirty—tainted.

"Why a prison?" she managed through heaving breaths, not daring to think more on the unsettling thought of possession.

Alberic grinned, amused. "It seemed the appropriate atmosphere, and I'm all about the ambiance. You're very adept at spoiling my plans, Miss McPherson. You see, I intended to have Treasach kill you and then have Loki break his sentence. There would be no witnesses and who would believe the word of a murderer over that of a noble guard? Loki would be condemned to life in prison. I would have gone to him with a promising proposition—a way out that he would have taken, undoubtedly. But you, stubborn wench that you are, managed to spoil said plans and expose my consort's involvement in keeping the dismantled section of the perimeter undetected."

Evelyn's head spun as she took all of this in. So he sought Loki's allegiance?

"Why would Loki have to be in prison for you to make a proposition? Clearly you have no consideration for boundaries," she jibed, her brown eyes suddenly sharpened to their previous wit as her anger and hatred for this man, Alberic, exponentially grew.

"As long as there was a shred of hope for him to cling to, a sweet promise of freedom, he would never be swayed. My dear girl, Loki is the only one who can stop me. He's the only one with knowledge of dark magic that is near equal to my own, and hence, the only one truly able to oppose me. If he chose to stand against me then I couldn't very well have him parading around with his magical abilities and immortal strength. I would need him to be stripped of his powers, of his strength and that means he would have to be condemned to an eternity in prison."

His black eyes scrutinized her face. She shuddered when his warm hand touched the bruising cheek where Treasach had slapped her.

"You see, the Frost Giants are just a little diversion. I've grown tired of Asgard. My interests are better spent elsewhere. So Odin, fool that he is, can continue to fatten and age while he sits upon his righteous throne. The Frost Giants are just my way of expending Odin's energy, perhaps sending him into sleep, perhaps not. My sights are set on a far more vulnerable realm," he purred, pressing his thumb into her cheek. "One that you know well."

Evelyn gasped in pain, turning her head away, but he would not relent as he pressed ever harder into the mottled flesh, his nail puncturing her skin. Spurred by anger she swiftly kicked him in the shin. With a groan of pain he stumbled back a step, limping a little. Evelyn's chest swelled with satisfaction, an emotion that was quickly wiped clean when she met his now furious gaze.

He stepped towards her again, pausing not two inches away as he glowered down at her from his intimidating height. Evelyn bravely met his gaze. "You want to know why your hands are covered in blood?" he hissed.

Evelyn swallowed nervously. She had a feeling that she really didn't want to know, but she didn't have much of a choice.

"It's because you _killed_ Asgardian guards today. You _murdered_ them in cold blood, innocent men who came to their posts today to protect civilians from criminals, and you killed them. Stabbed them through the heart—five of them—fathers, sons, nephews. Dead. All because of you," he murmured, his face lowering until his lips pressed against her ear.

Evelyn shook her head repeatedly as the horror of his words slowly penetrated her mind. Her body shook beneath his as sudden emptiness left her heart stinging with guilt. She was a killer. But it couldn't be. She hadn't meant to. She hadn't even _known_. "No," she breathed.

"Yes," he whispered against her ear, his teeth suddenly biting down on the fleshy lobe.

She tore her head away and thrashed against the wall, kicking at him and spitting at him. "No!" she screamed "You're a monster!"

Alberic stepped away to watch her furiously fight futilely against her chains.

"I did not kill five innocent men today," he mocked. "You did."

"You made me do it," she accused hatefully.

"It is you whose hands are stained with their blood. Not mine," he said, his face stern.

She wanted to reassure herself that she hadn't intended to hurt anyone, but she couldn't. Alberic had brought her to a dark place, a blackened recess deep within her soul that was slowly suffocating her with self-loathing. She _was _a monster. She should have fought it, should have overcome him somehow. Surely there could have been a way to overpower the ill-will, to fend it off. Perhaps she just wasn't strong enough, she thought self-deprecatingly.

The blood that stained her hands could be cleaned, but never, ever forgotten. She would never let herself forget, and she'd spend the rest of her life hating herself for the crimes she had unwittingly committed.

"Don't cry, pet," Alberic cooed sickeningly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

In a fit of indignant rage, Evelyn spat in his face. It was a pathetic form of retaliation, but the only one she was currently capable off. The tall sorcerer recoiled, emitting a grunt of disgust. Before Evelyn could allow herself to feel minutely victorious, she was rewarded with a head-spinning backhanded slap to her cheek, the same one struck by Treasach moments before. Her vision swam from the brutal force, her head going light and air-filled. It took several seconds, but when the sting finally manifested, it very nearly caused her to retch from the sheer agony of it. A whimper fled her lips before she could suppress it.

Satisfied, Alberic turned his attention to his consort. Evelyn took the moment of being freed from the captivity of his gaze to try and regain some control over her body, over her rampant thoughts.

"Treasach, have a message sent to the Guard. Tell them that an old acquaintance requests Loki's presence in the penitentiary, unaccompanied. Should he refuse, tell them Miss McPherson's head will find itself on their doorstep by the evening meal."

With a curt nod, Treasach, who had been silently watching the interaction between his master and his imprisoned victim, strode from the room, shutting the heavy oak door behind him. When he returned his attention to her, she was glaring at him with as much hate as she could muster beneath the searing pain that was consuming her head.

"You're making a terrible mistake," she managed through teeth clenched in pain. "You'll never get away with whatever it is you're planning. It's not in the nature of those with evil hearts to succeed. You will regret this," she promised daringly, teeth grinding together.

"I doubt that," he said, grinning cruelly at her. "And with Loki on my side, we'd be unstoppable."

Evelyn breathed laboriously but did not look away from his disconcerting eyes. She despised him with a passion. She would not let Alberic coerce Loki into joining him on his warpath. _Over my dead body_, she vowed.

"You may as well leave Loki alone and kill me now. He'll never join sides with you. Kill me and get your revenge. Besides, any moment now the warriors will arrive and Loki won't be among them. They won't give him up to you for the sake of saving one mortal's life," she said with cold reason.

"My darling, naïve girl, you are in no position to be making demands. You're a long way from home, and even further from the safety of you lover's arms," Alberic said, his tone darkening, his patience wearing.

"He's not my lover," she replied shortly. Alberic only chuckled darkly. "He won't come for me. Your demands are futile. He won't come," she repeated. Perhaps if she said it enough she might actually be able to accept it, for it was, undoubtedly her fate to die this day.

"How sweet," he sneered. "You're trying to protect him from me. As touching and sentimental as that is, I know that he will come. I have no intention of immediately killing him. I have but a mere proposition for him, one that would be advisable to accept, but that he is free to decline."

Evelyn glared at him. "Free to decline, but not free to walk away with his life," she bit out harshly.

"No, I'm afraid neither of you will walk away with your lives," he said with feigned apology.

With the predatory grace of a panther, he suddenly surged towards her again, his chest brushing against hers. He gently wrapped his hand around the delicate column of her throat, squeezing lightly at her pulse points. A cold sweat broke across her now sickly pale flesh, a debilitating fear settling in her stomach. She tugged desperately at the heavy, iron manacles that held her slender wrists captive above her head. It was all in vain, she very well knew. He tenderly stroked her throat, his eyes focused on the translucent flesh, the interweaving blue veins.

"Don't touch me," she seethed.

"Petulance doesn't become you," he growled, his body rumbling against her own as he pressed harder against her.

"I said, don't touch me," she repeated, this time with corrosive venom.

He hummed with dark disapproval. "Did you not hear me when I said you were no position to made demands? Your impudence offends me, which is a grave thing indeed. For you see, I am very unforgiving when it comes to others offending me. And I am not so gallant as to leave a woman with a shred of her dignity," he hissed against her ear.

Her eyes flew wide with repulsion when his large, hot hand found the collar of her shirt and promptly tore it straight down the middle leaving her chest bared to him. He chuckled at her evident horror, pushing the tattered remains of her shirt further across her shoulders. The cold air of the cell swept across her torso, raising goosebumps in its wake. His hot hand traced the shoulder strap of her black bra until his fingertip brushed the top of her breast, tracing the ample, half-moon curve. She thrashed against her chains, but he grabbed her neck, impeding her breath and pressing her into the wall to still her protests.

"How very tantalizing you are, for a mortal wench," he breathed against her cheek.

She turned her head away, repulsed. The urge to vomit overcame her as his heavy hand ran across her chest. She wouldn't let him do this to her. She'd rather die than be degraded by him. With the little energy left in her, she aimed a fierce kick at his kneecap.

Alberic barked in agony, but did not remove his offensive fingers. The proximity between them had barely given her enough space to properly kick him, let alone maim him. He turned his soulless black eyes on her, burning with wrath, and stomped down on the top of her foot with the heel of his steel-toed boot. Bones shattered and white hot pain overcame her senses, searing across her vision in a brilliant, blinding flash of light. A shrill, unrecognizable scream sounded in the room, echoing within the walls. It took her a second to realize it was her own scream.

Her body crumpled lamely against the wall, unable to support herself on her damaged foot. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt. Her foot was completely destroyed, bones, tendons and muscle crushed beneath his monstrous foot. The pair of flats she wore had done nothing to lessen the damage of the unforgiving blow.

Her head was spinning from the pain, so much so that she barely noticed Treasach re-enter the room. With tears of agony in her eyes, she scarcely allowed herself to feel a measure of relief when Alberic sidled away from her to speak quietly with his consort. She closed her eyes, releasing a few salty drops down the planes of her cheek, and waited for the next installment of her fate.

OOOOO

Loki paced his cell restlessly. Thor had been gone for nearly half of an hour now, gone to plead with Odin and the Royal Court to permit him to go to the penitentiary. Haward had arrived to inform them that Treasach, the damned fiend and traitor, had conveyed a message to the prison guard who were still fumbling over themselves in an effort to subdue the retaliating convicts, that his presence was requested by an old friend. The conditions—come alone or Miss McPherson would be killed.

In his past life, ultimatums had given him thrills, but now to be the recipient of one, and not even directly in control of the course he could choose (since he was subject to the Court's ruling) was maddening and made his blood boil. The overwhelming sense of uselessness, of futility, plagued his heart with anger.

"Would you get a grip?" Clint snapped from where he sat at Loki's desk, hands clasped together. Natasha was perched on the desk top, legs crossed and swinging gently, her face contorted with worry. Loki spun around, glaring. The two spies watched him from across the room, equally agitated and anxious.

"You are free to leave. I don't need to be babysat. I am not a child," he snapped.

"We're afraid you might go on a rampaging tangent and tear the room apart. You're proper a mess," Natasha said blatantly, raising a light brow. There was no animosity in her voice, just brutal honesty.

Loki glowered at her.

Clint leaned back in his seat, arms now crossed over his chest, hazel eyes directed with vengeance on Loki. "I still don't trust you. Deep down you must still be as rotten as you once were."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Clint. Give it up."

Clint narrowed his eyes at Natasha. "I won't. I can't understand what Evie sees in him," he muttered venomously.

Loki's fists clenched as he listened to them talk. "If you have something to say, say it to me directly," he hissed. "Don't be a coward. What do you really think of me?" he demanded, his eyes ablaze with wrathful challenge.

Clint rose angrily from his seat, manoeuvring around the edge of the desk as he strode defiantly towards him, his shoulders tensed, face contorted into an unpleasant scowl. Natasha jumped nimbly off the desk, snagging his sleeve to restrain him. Clint stopped three feet in front of him.

"I think you're vile," he spat. "Everyone around here seems convinced that you make Evie happy, that your friendship has been good for her, but I don't believe it. You'll only hurt her in the end," he stated, his adamant voice lowered into one of suppressed fury.

Loki narrowed his eyes, sizing up the shorter man. "I would never hurt her," he said, his voice notably level as he professed the one truth he knew he could utter with outright certainty. He favoured her far too much to ever hurt her. He had been a fool in their earlier months, threatening, frightening and intimidating her. But she had proven herself a force not to be trifled with. His respect for her surpassed his own pride.

"Maybe not intentionally," Clint iterated slowly, his eyes never straying from Loki's face, "but you will all the same. It's in the nature of men like you."

Loki's brow furrowed indignantly. "Men like me?" he demanded, advancing towards the impertinent spy.

Clint nodded deliberately, taking a step forward as well, his eyes burning with challenge. "Yeah. Selfish, egotistical, heartless ingrates."

Natasha clung tighter to Clint's shirt, warning him.

"Why you—

But Loki's words were abruptly cut off when the door to his cell flew open. The two fuming men stumbled a step back from each other. Turning to the door, Loki watched, heart racing, as his father, Thor, and the Honourable Judge Voglrson were admitted into the room. Loki had never had so many people in the confined space of his cell and felt suddenly stifled by their presences. The room could not contain such fierce personalities. There was detectable tension vibrating between those who entered, which further fuelled Loki's anxiety. Too much time had already been wasted. Judging by Thor's grim expression alone, Loki knew that events had not unravelled in his favour.

Voglrson, adorned in his judicial tunic, expression severe, frowned at Loki. "I regret that, after thoughtfully considering this grim circumstance, my trust in you, Loki, is not enough to permit you to abide by this unknown's request."

Loki's jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists. He had expected this, but he would not give up. "Miss McPherson will die if I do not go. Please reconsider. I will not let her be harmed as a result of my own failings with those I have made enemies of."

Voglrson looked dubious.

Odin cleared his throat, his single eye turning to his son. "Judge Voglrson may not think it wise to have you enter the penitentiary unaccompanied," Odin said gravely, " but I, on the other hand, have assured him of my confidence in you. I believe that you will be good to your word."

Loki stared at the wizened man, his adopted father, with disbelief. "You do?"

"Yes." Odin's voice was even, his expression one of blunt honesty. It struck a chord somewhere deep within Loki's chest. He held his father's gaze, neither blinking. Miss McPherson's advisement to reconcile with his father resonated through his head. Perhaps she was right and it was time to move past his grudge.

"And he won't be alone." Natasha added, stepping forward, hands planted firmly on her hips. Her expression was set into one of determined resolve. "Clint and I will cover him. Alberic won't suspect us and we'll make sure Loki's true to his word."

Loki turned his gaze to Voglrson. "Let me go to her," he said, his voice suddenly a low, rumbling timbre. His emerald eyes darkened, uncompromisingly staring into those of the steeled judge. "I will not be responsible for yet another innocent death. Especially not hers," he murmured the last, jaw setting with grim determination.

Slowly, painfully so, Voglrson nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Do not disappoint me. And if my approval does not mean a thing to you, then do not disappoint your companion. I want this mess done with. The city is in a right state," he said aggressively, clasping his hands behind his back. "Adorn your armour. You will take no weapons. I want this to be a clean job. No more blood will be shed this day. You go in, hear out this madman, and get out with Miss McPherson. Do I make myself clear?"

"As ice," Loki growled, his posture straightening, chin jutting out to give him the powerful appearance of being a man far taller than his six foot three inches.

The internal roar of battle coursed through his chest, a rush of blood pumping through his veins. He may be an academic and a sorcerer, but the blood of warriors ran through his veins. For too long he had been deprived of the primal, guttural sensation of preparing for and engaging in combat. Protectiveness swelled in his chest. He was going to bring her home and no manner of evil sorcerer would impede him. He was on the warpath.

He was going to be the hero for once.


	19. An Ominous Future

**I hashed out this chapter as quickly as I could. I hope it doesn't disappoint. I'm so pleased that the previous chapter seemed to really have an emotional effect on many of those who reviewed. Your enthusiasm is contagious, and spurred me to write this one fast and furiously. Enjoy :)**

19: An Ominous Future

Not thirty minutes after Loki had been granted permission to retrieve Miss McPherson, he had been escorted to the imposing iron-gated entrance of the Asgardian penitentiary. Designed to be an impenetrable edifice, nothing evil could get out, and no unverified persons could get in. Only they had, and twice in one day; first the unknown hostile holding Miss McPherson against her will, and second, Miss McPherson herself. It would have been laughable had not the circumstances surrounding the incompetence of the guards been so dire, had not her precious life been hanging in the balance, and certainly had not a sinister being possessed and abused her spirit to make it so.

After a few moments of hushed discussion between the prison wardens and the Royal Guard escorts accompanying them, Loki and his shadows, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, were admitted into the cool, stone-walled building. An involuntary shudder coursed through him at the thought that, should he take a step out of line, he could very well spend the rest of his life in the damp, stale building.

Two prison guards lead them down the various convoluted hallways—all the same grey, dank and chilled. As they neared a barred corridor consisting of cells, the sound of revolt reached his ears. Shouts of angry protest, the pounding of fists against wood and stone, and hollering words of vengeful promise were raised about them.

"Most of the prisoners have been subdued and returned to their cells," one guard, the shorter of the two, explained, "while others are still somewhat restless." Loki noted the way the man's fists tightened, knuckles whitening as he reaffirmed his grip on the hilt of his blade.

"Most?" Loki inquired, his eyes alert and scanning the length of dim corridor stretching ahead of them. He did not acknowledge the prisoners peering with narrowed eyes through the grills of their cells at them, nor their aggravated shouts or sinister insinuations that they made. Loki was under no disillusions. He knew that he was not particularly favoured among his fellow criminals of Asgard. He could not blame them for resenting him due to the obviously preferential treatment of being assigned his own private quarters of confinement, a right that was offered him as the son of the king.

The guard glanced at him apprehensively. "Some of our more…vindictive criminals have managed to evade capture. But we won't stop our efforts until they're all accounted for in their cells."

Natasha snorted derisively behind them. "How reassuring."

The guard shot a distasteful glare over his shoulder, aimed at the redhead. "Just keep your eyes open," he advised tersely. "And don't say I didn't warn you."

The five of them progressed further and further into the intricate maze, winding along until Loki was only vaguely aware of the path they had taken. He was far more preoccupied with calming his erratic heartbeat. He needed to see her with his own eyes, needed to reassure himself that he wasn't too late for her. Eager, he pressured the guards into assuming a swifter pace. Every second that he left her alone and vulnerable to the whims of his foe was a second less he had to return her to safety. Each step he took that carried him closer to her was heavier than the last, weighed down by growing guilt.

They rounded a sharp corner and turned into a short, windowless hallway with bolted, steel doors shining ominously like sharp, glinting knives at the end. The guards did not slow their pace until they faced the looming doors directly.

"The West Wing," the more conversational guard said tersely, identifying their location. "We assume it was emptied of prisoners, though we can't be sure."

"Have you gone in to check?" Natasha demanded, bewildered by their incompetence.

The guard gave her a reproachful look. "We can't. It's sealed and none of us can open it, even with a key. In any case, the one responsible for this mess is somewhere in the West Wing. This is where the first of the prisoner's broke free of their cells. I imagine it was the work of the hostile."

"How is that possible?" Clint prodded, naïve to the ways of sorcery. "Why can't it be opened?"

Loki frowned at his simple-minded question. "It's a recognition spell. Basic sorcery," he intoned flatly, stretching his neck to alleviate the building tension in his muscles. He turned away from the doors to address Natasha and Clint. "I'm afraid this is where we part ways," he said stoically.

"Excuse me?" Clint demanded, disbelieving.

"Neither of you will be following me to the other side of that door," he said slowly.

Clint shook his head in disbelief, turning to Natasha. "Didn't I tell you this would happen? You selfish bastard," he spat, turning his hazel eyes to Loki with uninhibited resentment. "You have no intention of helping Evie, do you?" he accused.

Loki's emerald eyes narrowed, his fists clenching as he fought to still his menacing retort. "You're impossibly thick. I have _every_ intention of finding Miss McPherson, you hopeless dolt. You truly know nothing of me."

"Then why do you insist on going alone?" Clint demanded, enraged.

"Because it must be this way!" Loki roared, towering over the spy with palpable fury. "The recognition spell on the door will only admit those who its caster permits, namely myself. Neither of you will be able to follow me through," he explained. "Whoever has Miss McPherson said to come alone. This admonition is no jest. If we do not follow the instructions directly, then we are endangering her life. I will not let that happen," Loki said in an aggravated rush, his teeth grinding together with barely concealed impatience. "Do you understand me?"

Clint swallowed back a retort, lips pursing with resentment. Natasha stepped up beside him, her green eyes meeting his. She nodded slowly, subtly squeezing Clint's hand.

"I trust you," she said cautiously. "Just bring her back," she said quietly, her voice wavering with barely detectable fear. "You bring her back alive."

Loki held her gaze a moment longer before nodding curtly and reaching for the knob. A pale light glowed beneath his palm, followed by a series of clicking locks and sliding bolts. Loki did not look back as he stepped through the doorway and into the deserted West Wing. The door shut firmly behind him, a dull, creaking echo resonating about him. He was on his own now. The only way to go was forward.

OOOOO

An innate sense of direction led him through the dim, abandoned corridors of the West Wing. It was eerily quiet, only briefly interrupted intermittently by the sound of trickling water from some unknown, leaking source. His heart thudded in his chest as he prowled through the dank, musty wing, his eyes flashing in the dark like emerald gems. As he turned one last corner, the pull of sorcery struck him forcefully in the chest. It did not take a practitioner of dark arts to know that something sinister was lurking down that very corridor.

His strides purposely slowed as he passed by several empty, opened cells. Senses alert, movements cautious. The sound of hushed voices gradually swelled in his ears. His heart constricted; his breath deepening as he braced himself to meet his foe, to finally see the face of his nameless enemy. The very last cell door was shut, and Loki knew without a hesitation of doubt that he had located them. He paused outside the door, his fury bubbling within.

The sound of a terrified whimper suddenly spurred him to action, fuelling the burning anger that was furiously roiling in the deepest recesses of his chest. Hand falling on the ice-cold knob, he twisted it, throwing the heavy door open with a vengeance. It crashed against the stone wall within the cell and he swept, cat-like, inside the room. His breathing was heavy, his eyes momentarily blinded in the sudden dimness.

"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour, the felonious son of the King. Loki, old friend, how have you been?" came the deep voice from the left extreme of the room.

Slowly the room took shape before him, his eyes quickly growing accustomed to the dark. His burning gaze settled on a familiar figure, one he had hoped to never again encounter. "Alberic," he growled, his thin lips curling back into a ferocious snarl. If there was one man capable of committing heinous deeds without flinching from guilt, it was Alberic.

He stepped further into the room. The door shut behind him of its own accord. It was then that the rest of the small, cramped cell came into view. His sharp green eyes sought her out in the dimness. His stomach churned, sickened by the sight of Miss McPherson chained to the opposite wall, just behind Alberic. Her chin rested against her collarbones as her small body hung limply from the bulky manacles. Her normally white, unmarked face was decorated in a mottled bruise, streaked with blood. Her shirt had been torn open and her arms were covered in a dried, crackling layer of blood—the blood of the guards, he reassured himself, not hers.

Anger rose in his chest upon seeing her so beaten and defiled. "You sick bastard," he growled, his voice low and threatening. He crouched forward, ready to rip his old friend's throat out.

"How vulgar common words are, especially on the tongue of a royal," Alberic chastised sinisterly, a cruel smile curving upon his face. Loki's eyes narrowed, fixing on his foe with lethal hate.

"Loki." He heard his name escape her lips in a laboured breath.

He looked away from Alberic, his emerald gaze falling on her. She looked distressed and defeated. It frightened him to no end. He desperately sought to go to her and hold her, but he had enough sense to not turn his back on a god as dangerous and merciless as Alberic. He moved a cautious step towards her, but Alberic's hand reached for her, draping lazily around the column of her throat. His black eyes met Loki's warningly, and the demigod abruptly halted in his step.

Alberic chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying his power over Loki. He watched, enraged, as Alberic slowly ran a finger along Miss McPherson's collarbone. Her sagging form attempted to shift away from his touch, but Alberic flattened his palm against her chest, pressing her into the wall.

"I have to say, your wench impresses me. No matter how much I beat her down, she simply won't submit to me."

Loki's blood boiled. Alberic shrugged gamely. " It's the ones with fight that are most rewarding to break," he mused, his hand falling to her breast, squeezing through the fabric of her bra. Loki growled warningly deep in the cavity of his chest as his fury rose to new heights. Miss McPherson's bottom lip trembled, from humiliation, or fear, or both, he did not know. But it aroused such blinding passion within him that his next course of action was completely unforeseen.

He launched himself across the small expanse of the room at his former peer, his fist barrelling into his smug face within unforgiving force. Alberic stumbled back into the wall, clutching his assaulted jaw. His black eyes blazed with a vivid thirst for bloodshed. Their bodies collided once again, their hands grappling as they both lashed out with powerful fists. Loki was blind to reason, his actions fuelled by the possessive, primal instinct to protect his own.

A sudden shock of electricity coursed through Loki's being. He cried out, crumpling to his knees before Alberic. His tall, lean body convulsed beneath the onslaught of reverberating energy. He braced his palms on the floor, his body quaking as Alberic unleashed his wrath upon him. Through the ringing in his ears and the pain searing through him, he heard Miss McPherson's scream of protest.

"Stop it! Stop! Please, that's enough!"

As swiftly as it had struck him, debilitating him, the assault had ceased. He breathed raggedly, his body sagging for a few gasping breaths until he gathered his strength and pulled himself back to his feet, his hand pressed to the wall for support. Slowly he looked up at Alberic, infinite hatred boiling behind his flashing emerald pupils.

Alberic clucked his tongue at him with disapproval, just as a parent does a child. "Let's be adults, Loki. I did not summon you here to beat you in a fight," he taunted. "I had you brought here to propose a very reasonable prospect for you."

Loki clenched his fists by his side, releasing the wall when he regained his centre and found his balance. "First release her. I am here, just as you asked. You will take me in her stead; my life for hers. Now, make good on your word," Loki said levelly, his voice a deep rasp—an after-effect of Alberic's spell. "Only then will I hear what you have to say."

Alberic laughed deeply. "Miss McPherson spoke nearly the same words to me just an hour ago, you know. Her life for yours was the gist of it. How hopeless the fate of forbidden lovers," he mused sinisterly.

Loki's body tensed, his gaze drifting astray only to be met by her chocolate brown eyes. She was watching him through heavily lidded eyes. There was silent supplication in those eyes, a plea to end her pain. He swallowed back an indefinable emotion that was rising with fervour in his chest. Only a fool would try to negotiate for the life of another when their own life hung in the balance. Her naïve bravery gripped him by the heart, abruptly rendering him acutely aware of her selflessness, of her devotion to him. If frightened him to think that she would be willing to die for him. He wouldn't want that for her. She deserved more than him, more than what he had to offer to her.

"Oh, this is too good," Alberic continued, unhindered. "So you really do care for the woman." He shook his head, the black voids of his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. "I had scarcely believed it when first I heard the whisper of a rumour, but now… Look at you! The mighty Loki rendered weak by his devotion to a mortal woman." The dark sorcerer's smile rapidly fell away into a sneer of disgust. "It's disgraceful. I never thought you a lover of mortals."

"Things change," was Loki's tight-lipped response.

"Clearly," Alberic hissed with an elaborate eye roll. "Now, shall we get to the point? Hm?"

Loki glowered at him. "Release her, and I will hear you out," he reiterated for good measure.

Alberic scowled at him, clearly unimpressed. "You really haven't caught on, have you? I tire of your heroics, my friend. The girl stays right where she is. Besides," his black eyes flitted fleetingly to the criminologist hanging against the wall, a menacing grin gracing his lips, "even if I did let her go, she wouldn't get very far. Let's just say that a misunderstanding between her and I led to a rather unpleasant altercation. As a result, her right foot is currently… out of commission," he sneered.

Loki's gaze turned swiftly to Miss McPherson. Silent tears were coursing down her dirt-streaked, bruised cheeks now. Her gaze was distant, unfocused. He sought out her right foot, and a new wave of rage washed through him. Her lame foot was bleeding profusely, shattered by a presumably immense impact. White, broken bones protruded from beneath layers of mutilated muscle, flesh and tendons.

"Now then, shall we get down to business?" Alberic asked coyly. Loki made no reply and so the sorcerer continued, unperturbed. "I offer you the chance to join me as an ally."

"I'd rather die," Loki spat without hesitation.

"Hear me out, Loki. You are the only peer I deem worthy enough to join me as an equal. Treasach is dispensable, but you—you are a powerful god. If only you would open your eyes to the endless possibility of your true potential," Alberic iterated, his black eyes calculating.

Loki could hardly be bothered to listen to his former peer's madness. He was watching Miss McPherson with growing apprehension, registering her now slumped form and drooping head. Her small body was shaking with violent shivers. His emerald eyes lowered to her chest in hopes of discerning her rate of breathing. He pale chest rose laboriously with shallow breaths.

Alberic was still speaking, but Loki, long since grown impatient with his ridiculous proposition, returned his wrathful gaze on him. "Together, you and I can be great; most fearsome to behold. We could seize Midgard just as you once tried and failed to do. I know buried beneath the disgusting sentiment that that woman has led you to feel is your true character—bloodthirsty and power hungry like me."

Loki would hear no more of it. "I tire of your ramblings. My position has not changed and will not. You think you can order me here and then undo all the progress that I've made? Well you can't. I am not that man anymore," Loki articulated, his voice clear and unwavering.

Alberic licked his lips, his black orbs narrowing. His expression remained emotionless. "So it would seem," he said thoughtfully. At that moment, the cell door reopened to admit a frustrated Treasach. Alberic raised a curious brow. "What is the matter now? I told you that I was not to be disturbed."

Treasach glared at Loki, his lips curling back into a feral snarl. "They've caught the last criminal and now the Royal Guard has infiltrated the building. It's only a matter of time before an amateur disables the recognition spell."

Alberic grimaced. "How inconvenient." His gaze drifted to Miss McPherson, a sadistic smile alighting on his face. "Bring me the girl," he said, gesturing carelessly with his hand.

Loki instinctively surged forwards, toward her, but he was suddenly met by an invisible barrier. He slammed his fist furiously against the transparent wall, his eyes turning wild with desperation as Treasach haphazardly unlocked her manacles. She crumpled to the ground with a muted cry of pain, before the ex-guard yanked her to up by the bicep, his large fingers curling around the appendage, purposely digging into her creamy skin.

"Don't you dare touch her," he growled, his eyes locked on his female companion.

Fury coursed through him like rushing, white rapids when she was forced to lean against Treasach to support herself. Her defeated expression was so foreign to behold, an expression he never thought she would ever be made to wear. And here he was, powerless to protect her. Treasach held her back to his chest, her head lolling heavily against his shoulder. Alberic, eyes trained on her with devious amusement, stepped towards them. Loki banged his fists against the wall with renewed fury, releasing a cry of rage, as the sorcerer traced a languid finger down her neck, sternum and across the exposed white mound of her breast.

"Take your filthy hands off of her, you disgusting fiend," he hissed.

Alberic did not look away from her. "It's a little late for that, don't you think. I was, in a manner of speaking, already _inside_ of her."

Loki's blood boiled red hot as he roared in fury. He made to pound the barrier again but found, to his surprise, that it had been removed. Without pausing to think, he launched himself at Alberic, grabbing him firmly by the collar and tearing him away from her, slamming the sorcerer mercilessly into the wall.

Loki wrapped his hand around the dark sorcerer's throat, squeezing tighter, their faces almost touching. "I swear I'll kill you," he seethed, his body quaking with uneven breaths.

Alberic chuckled darkly. "You'll do no such thing."

Loki slammed him ruthlessly into the wall once again for emphasis, his slender hand still constricting the dark sorcerer's air passage. "Try me," he murmured darkly, hateful vengeance consuming his heart and spurring his wrath.

Alberic's black eyes brightened sadistically. "I can see it, in the depths of your eyes. I can see the evil, the murderous, unpitying side of you. That's the Loki I know," he whispered. "It's still a part of you. You can't ignore it."

His words sent a shock through Loki's body. As if burned, he released Alberic and guardedly stepped back. "No. You're wrong." He pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to quell his anger. He realized, with no small amount of terror, how easily he had slipped back into his old ways—of succumbing to his darkest inclinations. He had thought he had changed, but perhaps he still had a long way to go.

"You know it's true," Alberic intoned, his eyes bright with glee.

Loki's hands clenched at his sides, his expression set with renewed resolve. He could not defeat Alberic. Physical strength would only prolong their lives by minutes. Eventually he'd be overpowered by the combined efforts of Treasach and Alberic. He could not protect either of them from magic, which left him his last weapon—his internal, lethal blade—his cunning silver tongue. He ran through his words rapidly, rehearsing, perfecting in a few quick seconds, before readying his notorious tongue to weave silken words of persuasion.

"Your time is running out, Alberic." His tone was now dangerously low, all anger was gone, instead replaced by cold reason. "You won't kill me. You won't kill either of us. I am powerless and weak. It would be too easy. And I know you well enough to know that your pride often interferes with your intentions," he said with arrogant confidence. "Now tell me, old friend, where's the triumphant glory in killing a helpless woman and a defenseless god? The only one armed in this room is you, which puts you at an unfair advantage. What triumph would come from the knowledge that you killed your worthiest opponent when he could not properly defend himself? How can you proclaim yourself the victor of a fight when there was no fight to begin with?"

Loki's lips twisted into a snide grin, his emerald eyes cunning like a panther. "I _know_ you, Alberic. And that's not good enough for you. You'd never settle for less when you could prove yourself to be so much more. You were always like me in that sense. We crave the glory." He met his old friend's blackened eyes with unwavering conviction.

Alberic pursed his lips, his black orbs focused on his once friend, now foe. If his eyes weren't so coldly devoid of emotion, so black and ashen, Loki was certain he would have seen the doubt manifest in his gaze. As it were, he saw but two black abysses. Alberic thoughtfully scratched his chin and Loki knew he had won this round. He knew a victory when he saw one.

"You haven't forgotten that tongue of yours," Alberic mused, his lips set into a thin line.

"You know that I'm right," Loki said, his voice smooth and steady.

Alberic's lips pursed angrily. "I will not show you mercy. You will perish by my hand, Loki, and your precious little wench too," he vowed, glancing at Miss McPherson. "That is, unless she dies from blood loss first."

Loki's fists clenched, a growl bubbling up from deep within the pit of his gut.

Alberic's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "How quickly you return to your previous arrogance, my friend. You're confident that you've won this round, but you haven't. I may not kill you today, but I have still won. The girl's mortal mind is frail and the guilt she will carry from having committed five cold-blooded murders this day will destroy her. Slowly it will rip apart her conscience until she is but an empty shell of her former self. You know this to be true. I can see the fear in your eyes. She may still breathe, but I have broken her beyond repair. You might have succeeded in prolonging her life, but she is damaged now."

Loki's body shook with anger, his eyes darkening with dread, for he knew there was truth to his former peer's words. Alberic had done terrible things to her, things that would require great resilience to overcome.

The dim echo of pounding footsteps reached his ears. Treasach shifted anxiously on his feet. The guards had penetrated into the West Wing. It wouldn't be long now. Alberic looked annoyed by this interruption as he turned his eyes exasperatedly towards the door.

"There will be no happiness for those who you care most deeply for," Alberic murmured with sinister promise, his black orbs training purposely on Miss McPherson who, barely conscious now, was still leaning into Treasach's frame to stay upright. "Know this. The next time we meet it will be as enemies, and I will rein hell down upon all those you love, upon the mortals you have grown to sympathize with. This war is only just beginning."

Loki narrowed his gaze, his posture tensing. Alberic, with a sweep of his black cloak, spun to Treasach's side, gripping his consort's wrist. Meeting Loki's emerald eyes with his ruthless black ones, the pair vanished into a black cloud of ashen smoke. Loki sprung forward, just swift enough to catch Miss McPherson's body before she hit the cold stone floor.

He swept her effortlessly up and into his arms, cradling her to his chest. Relief and anxiety twisted in his gut. Her head lolled against his arm and for a moment of panic, he could not detect her breathing and, terrified, believed her dead. "Miss McPherson," he breathed, stroking her dark drown hair. "Open your eyes," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion, much to his chagrin.

Slowly, wearily, her eyelids fluttered open and warm relief permeated his soul to behold those beautiful chocolate coloured doe-eyes that he had come to so dearly exalt.

"It's all right. I've got you," he whispered, impulsively bending down to kiss her tenderly upon her damp forehead. "You're safe now." Her skin was ice cold beneath his lips, much like his own skin, only feverish and sickly. He momentarily transferred her weight to one arm, holding her close. With his spare hand he attempted to draw the fabric of her ripped shirt over her exposed torso, trying to afford her some dignity.

His eyes traced the curving, round planes of her waist and breasts, his knuckles unintentionally brushing the soft flesh of her stomach. She shivered from his accidental caress and he clenched his jaw, rapidly averting his gaze as an inexplicable fire roared to life within his chest. Ashamed of his weakness at a moment as dire as this, he silently chastised himself and wrapped his arm around her once more.

She strained her neck to look up at him, her brown eyes bleary through the dirty frames of her glasses. Her body trembled violently within his arms and she winced. "It hurts," she whimpered softly. "Everything hurts."

Loki's arms tightened around her small body. He knew that she was talking about something beyond the physical pain she had been made to endure. Her words unsettled him with their painful honesty. She was referring to the emotional grief, the torturous knowledge of the bloody deeds she had committed that day, deeds that would weigh heavily upon her conscience for a long time to come.

He did not reply, but without delay he hurried from the room, setting a quick pace down the hallway. The approaching footfalls were echoing down the convoluted hallways, nearer now. There were so many corridors that even he, perceptive as he was, could not fully detect the direction from where they originated. He did not slow down as he retraced his steps to the best of his ability.

A shiver ran down the length of his spine when her cool fingertips gently brushed along his jaw. He glanced down at her to find her staring deeply into his eyes, an expression of sadness colouring her bruised face, brimming in her red-rimmed, swollen eyes.

He couldn't look away from her as her whispering fingertips tenderly caressed the length of his jaw, slipping timidly into his hair where they knotted in his long, black strands. Tears were brimming in her eyes as she tugged gently on his hair, just enough to ignite a dull throb and properly shock him out of his entranced stupor.

"I didn't think you would come," she admitted quietly, releasing her grip on his hair to instead trace the contours of his intricate armour. Her eyes were unfocused as they scanned his apparel.

Loki looked at her sternly, a frown plastering across his worried features. "That's foolish of you," he chastised, his weary tone devoid of any anger. "You act as if I haven't already proven that I would never let any harm come to you."

Her hand paused on his chest, resting there. His heart thundered loudly in his chest, so much so that he felt quite certain she could feel the reverberating beats from beneath his armour.

"I'm sorry," she sighed, her eyes resignedly drifting closed. When she did not reopen them, he jostled her in his arms, just enough to rouse her. He wasn't sure how severe her head trauma was, but if she was suffering from a concussion then he couldn't allow her to fall asleep.

Her eyes blearily reopened, unfocused, before closing again. He repositioned her in his arms, shaking her some more. "Stay with me," he said rigorously. "Don't go to sleep on me," he pleaded as his pace instinctively quickening to a near jogging.

Miss McPherson did not open her eyes as bidden, her body lifeless, muscles slack. Her hand fell limply from his chest and her breath turned shallow. With growing anxiety, he realized she had passed out.

"Damn you, Alberic," he growled, his fingers curling tightly into her clothing, squeezing her painfully hard against him for fear of losing her. Just then, several familiar faces rounded the corner. Natasha, Clint, Thor and the Warriors were heading towards them, looking restless and anxious. Upon seeing him and their friend in his arms, incomparable relief flooded their features. But the war wasn't won just yet. Their relief was not reflected in his own darkened eyes.

OOOOO

The chaotic half hour that followed his retrieval of Miss McPherson was enough to unleash a brutal headache in his brain, like the pounding of a thousand hammers against stone, painful pulsations mercilessly wracking his skull. Several people had tried to take the woman from his arms, had attempted to pry her sagging form from the deathly firm grip he had on her. But he had not relented his hold, had not been deterred. After more delays than he cared to consider, he had stumbled into the infirmary with Natasha, Clint, and Thor hot on his heels. His gaze had found, almost instantly, those of Eiron, and a silent plea had been exchanged via his beseeching green eyes.

Loki could not have been more grateful to the healer who promptly abandoned his other task in favour of administering to Miss McPherson. As if Loki did not already owe him for helping his and Miss McPherson's case against the Royal Courts, he now owed him this as well. He wasn't fond of the notion of being in debt to anyone, but he'd cast his pride aside. Miss McPherson took precedence over his selfish notions.

The healer had given him a look of consternation upon seeing the state of his companion. He had instructed her to be laid upon a cot, which Loki had done, albeit reluctant to release her. Not five minutes later, several of the Royal Guard had appeared to escort him away and back to his cell. In a fit of outrage, one that Loki was not proud to boast of, he had protested and resorted to minor physical aggression. He had been unwilling to leave her side, not when her fate hung in the balance. But, powerless as he was, he had been quickly subdued by force.

Hours later he awoke to the stifling darkness of his chamber, the last of the tranquilizing agent administered by one of the guards finally wearing off. A cry of fury fled his lips when he realized what had happened.

He wanted nothing more than to be by her bedside when she awoke. How terrified and distressed would she be when the painful memories rushed back to her and drowned her like the unforgiving wrath of a tidal wave? He wanted to hold her, to know that she was safe, to know that she'd overcome the injuries that she had sustained.

It was with anguish that he spent the remainder of that night awake and pondering her fate and the grim future that certainly lay in wait ahead of them.

OOOOO

By the next morning, Loki still had not heard word of Miss McPherson's condition. He was an utter mess—a twisted, convoluted knot of frustration. He anxiously paced the small room, a recurring habit of his. He cursed his own selfishness; he cursed Alberic; and he cursed the traitorous weasel, Treasach. At around noon that day, his cell door finally opened. He was on his feet in milliseconds but was disappointed to see that it was but the redheaded spy, Agent Romanoff.

"How did you get in?" he asked carefully.

"You guard let me in," Natasha replied in turn, her voice low and tired. He noted the dark bags beneath her vivid green eyes and recognized that his expression was likely much the same. As if reading his thoughts, she said, "You look like shit."

He winced, but nodded. "You're not so appealing yourself."

Natasha grinned, but it fell swiftly into a frown, all amusement dashed from her features. "I came to tell you about Evie."

Loki licked his lips, his palms damp with nerves. He approached her, his long strides slow and heavy with hesitation. "How is she?"

"Alive." Natasha looked grim. "Her fever mounted after they took you away. It wasn't looking good for a while, but she finally woke up an hour ago. The healer said she had a serious concussion from having likely been dealt several blows to the head."

Loki could only nod mutely, his emerald eyes boring into hers as his fists clenched with anger at his sides. His throat was dry, and the words to articulate his sheer fury failed him, for no word could match the impassioned wrath in his veins.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent's expression contorted abruptly into one of distress. "She's all wrong, Loki. It's all so wrong. What he made her do—she won't talk, won't eat. I'm scared for her," she said shakily, wringing her hands together with despairing, rawness-inducing ferocity.

The demigod's body stiffened. Was she really so bad? The overwhelming guilt that was plaguing his conscience was debilitating. He had brought this upon her; it was because of her affiliation with him that she had become the victim of Alberic's wrath. He had gotten too close to her. She had become his weakness, a target for those who sought to avenge themselves against him. He clenched his fists tighter, his nails splitting the flesh of his palms

"Evie isn't a soldier. She's an academic. She's not meant to fight battles; she's not made to accommodate the guilt of taking a life." Natasha ran a distressed hand over her face, sighing deeply. Loki watched her and recognized his own grief and fears manifest in her countenance.

"She asked for you," Natasha said, clearing her throat of crackling emotion.

Loki's brow rose.

"She wanted to make sure you were all right, that you didn't get into any trouble while she was…indisposed," she continued thoughtfully.

A weak smile crept onto his face, but his mind still weighed heavily with news of the criminologist's distress. "How's her foot?" he asked carefully. He was no expert, but he knew from what he'd seen that it was a serious injury.

"Let's just say that she won't be training in the near future. The healer, Eiron, I think's his name, is a miracle worker. After seeing the damage I hardly thought she'd ever walk again." She looked somewhat troubled. "I don't know what he did, but he reconstructed the foot and set it in a cast. She won't be able to walk on it for about a week, after which she'll need crutches for at least another two." Natasha shrugged. "The medics here are unbelievable," she continued, her tone praising. "She's confined to bed rest for the next week."

Loki nodded, distracted. "I want to see her."

Natasha frowned. "You can't." Loki met her earnest gaze with a frown. "I've asked already, as has Thor. Your brother was adamant that you should be allowed to see her, but that pompous judge, the Honourable stick-up-his-ass, forbid it." Natasha pursed her lips distastefully. "But he did issue a public statement acknowledging your selfless undertaking, though it took some prodding from Frigga to get it done," she said with a sardonic smirk.

Loki could not find it within himself to be amused by this. His anxiety far surpassed any sense of accomplishment he felt for being public acknowledged. All he wanted was to see her, to hear her voice. He couldn't imagine how frightened and guilty she must feel. He knew that she would be forever altered by the events of the previous day and he wanted to help her get through the pain, to teach her to overcome the self-loathing and to let herself live blamelessly. He owed it to her. If it hadn't been for him none of this would have happened to her in the first place.

Natasha clasped her hands together, her green eyes flashing with curiosity. "She wants to talk to you. In fact, you're the only one she's expressly asked for. She's been laconic all morning, answering with a 'yes' or a 'no', but I guess you were important enough to merit an entire sentence."

Loki set his jaw, refusing to show how much her statement affected him. Possessiveness swelled in his chest, a powerful surge of emotion that he had no right to feel. Miss McPherson was by no mean _his_. She was her own person, but to know that she sought his company—it made him yearn for her even more.

"But since she's an invalid and not allowed to leave the infirmary, and since you're locked up here like a damsel in distress, then you both will have to suffer throught the deprivation." Her green eyes twinkled with mischief, a characteristic that Loki easily recognized having worn it himself a thousand times over. "She'll be released in a week. You should know that not being able to see you really dampened her spirits," the agent admitted, intently watching his expression for changes.

He said nothing, but Natasha, being a kindred perceptive spirit, detected the flickering of potent emotions behind his shielded eyes.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you properly yesterday for rescuing her," Natasha said after a moment's hesitation. "You clearly care about her, and," she paused, glancing at her feet before redirecting her stern gaze at the towering god, "I think she needs you. Evie and I are best friends, but I know that she won't want to burden me with her troubles. It's different with you. She needs someone like you—someone who has been at his worst and survived it. You're someone she can model herself after. She's saved you, your humanity, your possibility of a future," the spy said carefully, "and now she needs you to return the favour."

Loki swallowed with some difficulty. Her words reverberated through him with powerful resonance. The truth was that he _wanted_ to be there for Miss McPherson. If it was within his power, which he knew well enough it wasn't, then he'd _always_ be there for her. One week seemed a lifetime to him now to have to wait. In all his immortal life, days passed like seconds, fleeting and easily forgotten, but the next seven days would prove a challenging feat. But he would vanquish the perpetual wait.

In seven days he'd step up and be her strength.


	20. Mothers Know Best

20: Mothers Know Best

For seven days Evelyn sat upon her cot, not permitted to move until Eiron deemed her strong enough to do so. The distressing truth was the Evelyn was struggling to find the will to _want _to move. At present, she would be content to spend the remainder of the foreseeable future hidden beneath the scratchy cotton sheets, shutting out the cruel, unforgiving world, and imagining that everything was just one horrible dream.

The past week had been a living, nightmarish hell of haunted memories. Every night in her upsetting dreams she had been made to relive those moments in the cell from an out-of-body perspective. She stood there each night, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, clinging to the fleeting warmth of her thin nightclothes as she helplessly watched herself being assaulted by Alberic – watched his hands roam her body. Each night was the same. She would watch herself walk through the penitentiary, stabbing the hearts and slicing the throats of innocent prison guards without flinching, blood spraying in her face as a horrifyingly alien expression of sadistic glee spread across her bloodstained cheeks.

And when her dream self would turn to look at her, a deliberate glance over the shoulder, her eyes always met with black voids—not her own eyes, but Alberic's soulless eyes—and she was reminded, with a nauseating feeling of tainted defilement that he had been inside of her, that he had corrupted her and stained her unwilling hands with murder. She woke up every night that week screaming. Natasha, loyal to a fault, had slept every evening in the chair at her bedside, always there to hold her while her screams subsided and tears streamed silently from her fearful, hollow eyes.

Her friends were a constant that she came to rely heavily upon to distract her from her living nightmares. She had no appetite for food, no interest in reading, and no words to speak. She was aware that her utter lack of motivation to perform in any way devastated Thor, Natasha, Clint, and even Frigga and Odin, who had come to see her thrice in the past week. None of them knew how to return the spark of life to her eyes.

There were many questions. None of which, save for the essential, was she inclined to respond to. She had been more than willing to answer Odin's questions. The chaos of the past week had caused a stressful backlash that had shattered the King's peaceful reign and left uproar in its wake. She felt obliged to at least alleviate some of his stresses, feeling in part responsible for his newly sprung headaches. Frigga, afraid to tire her out with their questions, had told her they'd ask Loki more about it.

Loki. When he had stepped into the cell all those days ago, decked in his regal black, emerald and gold armour, his trademark golden-horned helmet atop his head, he had radiated an equally terrifying and powerful aura. He had looked all the more a prince of Asgard. His arrival had relieved but distressed her. Somehow he had managed to convince his superiors to let him come to her, she had no idea how, but she knew the feat would have required much perseverance. Of course, she had also been consumed with fear that somehow Alberic would coerce him into joining him. What transpired following Loki's arrival had been barely comprehensible to her, so consumed by agony and half-consciousness as she was. She had faded in and out.

When Treasach abruptly disappeared from her side and she had nearly struck the ground, her mind had been stunned into sudden clarity and she had felt herself swept into familiar, strong arms. He may have looked to be an angel of darkness, but in that moment he had been her angel of light. She had wanted to speak with him—to see how he was coping, but the courts had refused to let him visit.

A small part of her had always wanted to share her experience with him, even though she held doubts about it. It had frustrated her, being forced to hole up her anguish, and had led her to spiral further into a state of perpetual, solemn silence. Not wanting to burden her friends with her fears and her nightmares, she had been forced to retreat further into herself.

Evelyn's friends pleaded with her to share her experience, to unburden herself, but it was all in all too humiliating and too shameful to share. She was afraid to be judged, which, she knew, was ridiculous, but an insecurity of hers all the same.

Her spirits were somewhat lifted that morning. She would be discharged after the noon meal and would finally be able to see Loki, to make sure he was coping and had no doubts. She also wanted to thank him again for his selfless actions, though she knew no words could express her gratitude to him. It seemed that the longer she remained on Asgard, the further and further she fell into his debt.

At the present moment, Clint and Natasha were chatting by her bedside about their plans to scour the Asgardian perimeter once more. They were also keen on arranging measures with Thor that would serve to keep the people of the city as safe as possible should another attack by the Frost Giants occur. She had told Odin of Alberic's words—how unleashing the Frost Giants in Asgard was his way of entertaining himself by spending the Allfather's energy. His efforts, however, were now focused on Midgard. Natasha and Clint had gone to inform Fury, via the trans-realm communicator, that Alberic intended to unleash his wrath upon Earth. While Fury requested their immediate return, Natasha and Clint had refused, preferring to stay on Asgard for the last three weeks of Evie's commission in order to ensure her safety should the Jotuns attack.

It was just past lunch, and Evelyn was distracted from her quiet ponderings when she noticed Eiron treading down the aisle between the rows of infirmary cots with a pair of wooden crutches clutched in his hand. Freedom wasn't far now.

"Good morning, Evie," the healer chimed brightly, pausing by her bed to lean on the crutches.

"Hello," she sighed softly, struggling to pull herself up against her pillows so that she could sit up straight to talk to him. Clint rose to his feet, hand gripping her under the arms as he kindly lifted her and pushed her back against the pillows. She smiled her thanks at him.

"We're testing the strength in your foot today," he said, gesturing to the wooden crutches. "Ready to take on the world?" he asked cheerily.

Evelyn shrugged noncommittally. "I suppose so," she mumbled, her tone utterly lacking in enthusiasm.

Eiron frowned, casting a wary look behind her where the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stood, arms crossed, and similar expressions of dismay on display across their faces. The healer placed the crutches in front of her. "Come, come now. Where's the spark, Evie? You'll be a free woman in not much longer."

Evelyn said nothing in reply, her eyes narrowing distrustfully at the wobbly looking crutches. With Eiron's help, she managed to stand with all her weight on the foot that was not in a cast, the crutches sliding neatly and securely beneath her arms. Eiron did not move his hands from her waist, assuring himself first that she was stable before cautiously letting his hands fall away.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

Evelyn glanced down at her casted foot, her eyes skimming the now yellowing bruises on her wrists—the remaining evidence of the manacles that had once dug unforgivingly into the fair flesh. Her face was much the same, coloured with a yellowing bruise. "Fine," she said at last.

The young woman said no more. She just stood there waiting, her dark, mist-filled eyes evidencing that her mind was far away in a distant place. Eiron sighed, "Let's see how you do walking to the end of the hall and back," he suggested

The next twenty minutes were spent testing her strength and her skills with the crutches. They weren't the most comfortable artificial appendages, but at least they kept her on her feet. She had wobbled a bit, tipping perilously left several times during their first attempt. Her balance was askew and her legs were weak from spending a week in cot with minimal exercise. Her knees cramped beneath her, but she persevered, basking in the sharp pain that flared in her joints as it reminded her that she was still alive and breathing.

Eiron seemed satisfied with her ability and signed the form for her release. It should have made her happy, to be free of the infirmary, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything at all save exhausted distress.

An hour later, and Evelyn was packed and on her way out. Before the trio could stray a dozen feet from the infirmary entrance, the familiar, bulky form of Thor came hurrying towards them. His face lit up with delight upon seeing Evelyn out of the infirmary and on her own two feet. His white smile spread across his handsome face, his blue eyes twinkling with approval.

"Evie! How glad I am to see you on the mend!" he exclaimed, pulling her roughly against his chest, smothering her to him. Evelyn clung tightly to her crutches, trying to stay upright. "How relieved you must be to finally be free of that white-washed, sterile place," he said, releasing her.

Evelyn stumbled a bit, but he snagged her elbow, steadying her. She offered a weak smile. "I suppose I should be," she agreed.

Thor frowned at the small brunette before catching Natasha's distressed gaze. He returned his gaze to Evelyn's, a knowing smile gracing his face. "I know what will restore your spirits."

Evelyn raised a brow. "I doubt that very much," she countered, swinging her crutches forward as she hobbled along the corridor. The three Avengers scurried after her. It wasn't difficult to catch up to the crutch-dependent invalid.

"Surely you haven't forgotten that Loki is expecting you today," Thor mentioned casually.

Evleyn paused mid-hobble, her chocolate-brown eyes widening. She had completely forgotten. Her thoughts had often turned to him throughout the past seven days, and just hours earlier as well. But somehow she had failed to remember that she'd be allowed to see him upon her release. Embarrassed, she had the decency to blush—which greatly relieved her friends as it was the first bit of colour they had seen in her cheeks since before the incident.

"I—I had forgotten. I was distracted."

Thor grinned, squeezing her shoulder. "It's understandable. Now, how about I walk you to your room? You can change, wash up, whatever you need, and then we'll head on up to see him. Sound like a plan?" he asked.

Evelyn nodded mutely, turning to look over at Natasha and Clint. "You guys have been really kind these past few days. You've babied me beyond reason and you definitely deserve a break. Take some time for you," she suggested with a grateful smile, thought her eyes were lacking enthusiasm.

Natasha quickly wrapped her arms around her best friend. "I'm worried about you, Evie," she said quietly, squeezing the criminologist tightly. "I know it's not in your character to share burdens, but I want you to know that if ever you feel the need to share, I'm always here for you."

Evie nodded, biting her lip as her eyes welled with unshed tears. She was such an emotional wreck these days. "I know," she whispered, her voice wavering.

Natasha withdrew and gave her one last smile before she took Clint's hand. He seemed surprised by the sudden contact, not accustomed to her showing affection towards him in public, but he didn't protest. Bidding farewell to Evie and Thor, the arrow-wielding spy allowed his partner to drag him along down the long corridor.

An hour later, at around three-thirty in the afternoon, Evelyn was washed, dressed and being carried bridal-style by Thor, his thick arms painfully hard against her, as of recent, emaciated body. Stubborn to a fault, Evelyn had insisted on using her crutches to walk through the winding corridors. She had broken a minor sweat by the time they paused at the foot of the impossibly tall spiralling staircase. She had stared, daunted by the feat it presented. The only sound in the silence at the time had been her laboured, ragged breathing. Without warning, Thor had scooped her up, unbothered by her protests and carried up the stairs. She was mortified, to say the least, but grateful nonetheless. She knew she would have been too weak to make it up on her own.

When Haward saw her, his face brightened immediately into a warm smile. Thor lowered her to the ground, helping her back onto her crutches. Haward stepped away from his post to first shake his prince's hand, before placing a sturdy hand on Evelyn's shoulder and lightly squeezing.

"I am pleased to see you, Miss McPherson. I've been concerned for you since news of your unfortunate adventure. It distresses me greatly to know of the horrors you were made to endure," he said, his dark eyes sincere with regret.

Evelyn smiled and lightly patted his calloused hand with reassurance. "Thank you. I'm on the mend. Don't despair."

Haward nodded, offering a smile that did not quite reach his dubious eyes as he withdrew from them so that they could enter Loki's tower cell. Evelyn's heart thudded loudly in her chest as Thor turned the knob and pushed the door open. Her stomach knotted anxiously; she was a nervous wreck. Doubts began to flood her mind. Would he judge her? Would he look at her differently? Did he think she was damaged? The tormenting thoughts ran on and on.

Chastising herself for having what she knew were unreasonable doubts, she followed Thor into the room after a minute's hesitation.

"…for a visit," Thor was saying as she stepped into the room.

Evelyn looked up and her eyes instantly met Loki's emerald orbs. There was an unfamiliar fierceness behind his eyes, an unreadable emotion that left her shifting nervously on her crutches, her heart trapped in her throat. A moment of silence passed in which no one spoke.

Thor rocked on his heels, burrowing his hands into his pockets. "Okay then," he chimed, glancing between the two companions whose eyes were locked. "I think this is my cue to take leave." He glanced at his brother, fixing him with a stern look. "Go easy on her, brother."

Loki momentarily broke their connection, but only for a brief second to direct a withering stare at his older brother. "Weren't you leaving?" he snapped impatiently. Thor lifted his hands in a show of surrender before bidding them goodbye and slipping from the room.

Loki continued to stare silently at her, his eyes narrowed with careful calculation. Flushing beneath his intent gaze, Evelyn averted her eyes and hobbled towards her wingback chair, swaying a little as she struggled to familiarize herself with the swing of the crutches after having been carried by Thor. Loki was at her side in an instant, his hand suddenly placed between her shoulders, steadying her.

"Do you need assistance?" he asked softly as he walked the last few steps with her to her usual seat.

Evelyn frowned, looking down at the chair and the crutches. She manoeuvred herself to stand with her back to it, relieved when his cool hand fell reluctantly from her back. She desperately tried to ignore the lightness in her heart that his touch had instilled. "I think…" she began, attempting to lower herself into the chair, "…I can manage."

She fumbled a bit, almost falling backwards, but Loki caught her bicep.

"Stubborn girl," he muttered, fixing her with an unimpressed look as he drew her crutches away from her arms and leaned them against the side table. He then took her other bicep in his opposite hand and gently lowered her into the chair.

The redness on her cheeks had still not subsided, lessened, yes, but still lingered. "Thank you," she mumbled as he stepped around the table to take his own seat.

He watched her with a look of concern, but she could tell that he was masking his emotions, for although his drawn face remained relatively stoic, his bright eyes flickered with emotion. "How did you manage to get up here? You can hardly walk in a straight line," he asked, leaning his elbows on his knees as his gaze drifted to her foot, set in a heavy plaster cast.

"Thor carried me," she replied. "I didn't want him to, but I don't think I would have managed on my own," she admitted with a shrug.

"Well of course you wouldn't have," Loki said shortly, fixing her with a stern look. The sharpness in his eyes slowly softened. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," he said bluntly.

Evelyn's eyes widened, captured by the sincerity in his emerald gaze.

"You can't imagine the guilt I feel. It is my doing that brought upon Alberic's wrath. I am so sorry," he breathed. His voice was tight as he fought the threatening waver of emotion.

Evelyn wanted to reach for him, to reassure him with a gentle touch that she didn't blame him for Alberic's cruelties. "You've nothing to be guilty for."

"I have everything to be guilty for."

Evelyn shook her head. "Please don't say that. What he did to me – that wasn't your fault," she said firmly.

Loki's eyes darkened, his lips thinning into a grimace. "And what exactly _did_ he do to you?"

A wave of icy chills rushed through her body, leaving her quaking lightly as she battled the sudden onslaught of the terrible memory of his calloused hands and words as they assaulted her, tainted her. She slowly shook her head.

A low growl filled his throat, but Evelyn refused to meet his eye. "Tell me what he did to you. I need to know."

Again she shook her head, involuntary tears welling in her eyes. "Saying it only makes it real."

Loki frowned. He rose to his feet swiftly, and swept around the table, sitting on the edge of the low coffee table just in front of her, their knees only just brushing. "But it _is _real. You need to acknowledge what he did to you – what he made you do."

Guilt struck her again, though it had never really left to begin with. She met his intent green eyes as they gazed imploringly at her from but a foot and a half away. "I have acknowledged it. I relive it – the nightmares. Every. Single. Night," she sighed, distressed. "I can't sleep, Loki. I have such guilt, and sometimes I can still feel him – his – when he…" her voice trailed off weakly as she lost all resolve.

Loki's fists clenched over his knees, a furious scowl appearing across his face. Evelyn saw the wheels working in his head, but she quickly diffused them. He hadn't gone so far as Loki seemed to be thinking. "If he—

"He didn't," Evelyn cut in, her eyes dark. She shuddered just thinking about what might have happened had Loki not shown up when he did. "He just… touched me, I suppose." She closed her eyes and bowed her head. "It's – it's not a big deal. I'm just overreacting, is all," she mumbled.

Loki shook his head with rage. "Nothing about what happened to you is all right. It _is _a big deal. He defiled you, Miss McPherson, in ways only you know, and you need to tell someone. You need to tell me," he insisted angrily.

Wearily she met his gaze once again, peering from beneath her black, newly dampened lashes. "I'm a murderer. What more is there to say?"

Loki's hand suddenly fell on her knee, gripping her kneecap painfully hard with his fingers before easing a little. He kept his hand there. The fleeting jolt of pain was enough to arouse Evelyn from her stupor of self-loathing. She looked into his eyes with sudden clarity.

"You aren't a murderer. You're just as much a victim as the gallant men who lost their lives by Alberic's hand," Loki asserted.

Evelyn could not feel comfort from his words. "That last thing those guards saw before I cut their throats and stabbed them through the heart was my face. To them I'll always be their murderer," she said, her small form starting to shake as dry sobs wracked her body.

Loki's other hand found her opposite kneecap, pulling her several inches closer to him, so that she sat at the edge of the chair, her knees now between his thighs. "Wherever they are, they know now that you were not yourself. You were possessed. They know that you were powerless to the whims of an evil sorcerer who was far more powerful than yourself," Loki intoned, squeezing her knees.

"I wish I could see their families and apologize to them. Eiron said they wouldn't let me because their identities are undisclosed," she said, exhaling shakily. "Oh, God. I'm such a monster," she cried.

Evelyn's entire body went slack from exhaustion and despair. She leaned forward, over the minimal space between them, resting the side of her head against his shoulder, the tip of her cool nose brushing the length of his muscular neck. Evelyn felt his body stiffen beneath her, but then relax minutely, a reluctant hand coming to rest comfortingly on the middle of her back. She stayed like that for some time until her tears and tremors subsided. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent that was innately Loki.

Gradually, with reluctance, she pulled away from him, the side of her face briefly brushing against his. She would have pulled back the rest of the way if his firm hand hadn't still been affirming pressure on her back. His face was but an inch or so away from hers. His large, unblinking eyes studied her face and then fell to her small, swollen pink lips. Evelyn watched his eyes learning her mouth but did not pull away – she couldn't have even if she had tried to.

His head tilted forward, dipping towards her, and she obligingly tilted her chin upwards to match him. Rational thought had been carelessly cast to the wind. She was vulnerable and eager for comfort, to share the strength of another. A shiver coursed through her spine when an ice cold fingertip traced the curve of her bottom lip. Her lips, quivering, responsively parted, and suddenly his vivid green eyes returned to hers.

"Loki," she whispered as his shallow breath fanned tantalizingly against her mouth.

A swift rap on the door caused them both to pull sharply away from each other, the heat between their bodies quickly turning cold as they were equally struck by the careless reality of what had almost transpired between them. Evelyn internally scolded herself, her cheeks burning red as she pushed herself back into her chair, embarrassed by her lack of judgement.

Loki rose to his feet, rubbing his face with his hand. "I'm sorry," he said tersely. "I shouldn't have – I –."

But the knocking came again, this time accompanied by a familiar female voice – Frigga's. Evelyn felt her mortification spread by leaps and bounds, rushing through her with renewed vigour at the thought of Frigga nearly walking in on her kissing her beloved son. She looked at Loki, wide-eyed. He was staring, jaw clenched at the door, an undeniable tint of red colouring his cheeks.

He looked at her quickly before calling out, not without first conveying his regret. "Come in."

Frigga swept regally into the room a moment later, a warm smile spreading across her face when she saw Evelyn. Out of respect, Evelyn took one of her crutches, and, with no small amount of difficulty, stumbled ungracefully onto her feet. Loki frowned at her disapprovingly from where he stood, having just embraced his mother in greeting, before crossing the room towards her, following in the queen's wake.

"I do hope I'm not intruding," she said kindly, glowing brightly at her son and then at Evelyn. "I'm so pleased to find the both of you here." Even though the two individuals could make strong arguments as to how she was, in fact, intruding, neither dared devastate the sensitive queen by faulting her kindness.

The motherly queen's arms were spread wide as she quickly closed the space between them and wrapped one arm about Evelyn's shoulders. Loki, who was hovering sceptically just beyond his mother's shoulder soon found the queen's strong arm around his back as well, pulling all three of them into an acutely awkward hug – that is, from both Loki and Evelyn's perspective.

"Oh my darlings, what a terrible week it's been!" Frigga cried, lamenting, her surprisingly firm arms pulling Evelyn ever closer to Loki. Her crutch was now at an odd angle and virtually useless. Stumbling to maintain her balance, Evelyn placed her free hand on the nearest solid thing – Loki's chest. The queen and her son were far taller than she and Evelyn found herself staring straight at her companion's chest, her face not a hair's width away. A heated blush flooded across her cheeks as Loki took a shallow breath, his chest expanding, pectoral muscles flexing beneath her palm. She silently thanked a higher power that due to her vertical inferiority her flushed face was obscured from their sight.

"Mother," Loki groaned, his chest vibrating. "Must you be so sentimental all the time?" he chastised distastefully.

Frigga clucked her tongue like a mother hen, her arms abruptly falling away, much to Evelyn's dismay. She had been pushing backwards against the queen's solid arms in order to put as much distance as possible between herself and Loki. As a result, she toppled backwards with a gasp of fear, arms flailing, her crutch falling uselessly to the ground.

Frigga cried out in surprise, too slow to react to the falling woman, but Loki, perceptive and agile as per usual, had been anticipating a probable tumble, and rapidly snagged her around the waist, pulling her flush against him once again. Her breath wracked her body, her hands gripping his shirt out of instinct. For a moment no one spoke; no one moved. Another blasted blush was staining her cheeks.

Frigga's cooing, motherly voice filtered through the room. "Oh, my poor dear! I'm so terribly sorry. I'm such a silly goose. I tell you sometimes I'm just a little over eager," she fretted.

Evelyn turned to look at the queen, painfully aware of Loki's hand holding her hip. The queen's eyes twinkled with mirth and she looked anything but apologetic as she examined the embrace currently being shared between the criminologist and her son.

Evelyn released Loki's shirt as she slowly registered the queen's inquisitive, amused gaze. Loki, sensing her discomfort silently lowered her back into her seat, careful to keep touching her directly to a minimum.

Frigga took the wingback seat opposite of Evelyn, the one where Loki usually sat during their sessions. Loki, now displaced by his mother's presence, stood leaning his tall frame against the mantle of the fireplace, one ankle crossed lazily over the other, his hands buried deep within his pockets. Evelyn kept her eyes carefully trained on Frigga as she spoke, but was anxiously aware of Loki's eyes watching her.

While the queen spoke, Evelyn only half-listened. Her thoughts were preoccupied by the escalating disapproval that she had almost let Loki kiss her. She had tilted her head upward, a clear sign of her approval.

What had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking, that's what. It was madness. She was vulnerable and in a moment of despair had sought the promise of comfort that a pair of attentive lips might offer – not that she knew anything about kissing, having never kissed before. She blushed anew, relieved that Frigga had chosen to arrive when she had. She had impeccable timing and Evelyn thanked her countless times in her head for interrupting what would have been the catalyst for more complications that she really didn't need right then.

"Evelyn?"

Frigga's soft, prying voice tore her from her thoughts.

She had the decency to blush. "I'm sorry. I was in a bit of a daze."

The queen smiled sympathetically. "You look terribly exhausted."

Evelyn only nodded, a small smile on her face. Moving her lips caused her face muscles to protest. Her whole body was crying out for rest, and she realized just how tired she was. She glanced at the clock on the mantle by Loki's elbow. It wasn't even dinner time yet.

"I was saying how it might do you some good to walk about the grounds in the coming days. Goodness knows being put on bed rest for a week can leave you a little stir-crazy," Frigga said.

Loki scoffed, attracting the attention of both women. He shrugged, nonchalant. "Try being imprisoned for a year with but a foot wide window as your source of light."

Frigga pouted sympathetically before chatting away some more, undeterred. She talked about Thor's visits to Earth, about how pleasant Natasha Romanoff's disposition was, and how Odin's mood had turned very sour following Evie's incident. Evelyn hardly paid attention, and she detected that neither did Loki.

Evelyn did not speak at all, but Loki nodded and prodded and replied here and there, where appropriate. Frigga was quite able and content to have a light, one-sided conversation without the input of the two other brooding and dreary occupants in the room.

"It's almost too wonderful to believe that in less than three weeks I'll have my son back," she was saying, cooing about how deprived she'd been of his company.

Evelyn dared a glance at Loki, who immediately made eye contact with her having already been staring at her to begin with. His emerald eyes had darkened, searching the depths of her eyes as if trying to see her soul. She swallowed with effort as her heart began to beat in her chest in remembrance of their lapse in judgement not too long ago. She could tell that he was itching to speak with her, to finish off the glum conversation that they had begun before succumbing to, well, less than advisable physical intimacies.

Straining against her desire to just stare into those unsettling green eyes, Evelyn turned her head away, nestling further into the plush comfort of the chair. She put a little too much pressure on her ankle and winced as a sharp pain shot through her calf. She bit her lip to withhold a cry of pain.

Her head was going fuzzy with fatigue, the room about her blurring as sleep fought to claim her. She fought the urge to the best of her ability, afraid to rudely fall asleep while the queen was speaking at her. But slowly, Frigga's words began to blend into one indistinguishable, interconnected trail of meaningless sounds. She was quickly losing the battle. Her eyelids fluttered in a last ditch effort to combat her body's dwindling will, but to no avail. She was swiftly carried off into the world of dreams – of nightmares.

OOOOO

Loki had not taken his eyes off of Miss McPherson since she had first arrived at his cell with Thor's effort. Her distress caused him unspeakable misery and rage. He was close to getting her to open up, but it would take more time – time that he was more than willing to devote to her. He had noticed the frequent stifled yawns she had begun to emit. When her eyes slowly fluttered closed with sleep, he couldn't help but smile at her.

His mother chatted on, unrelenting; having failed to notice that half of her silent audience had lost consciousness. Despite how much he loved his mother – with a pure, untainted love. But her knack for timing was quite possibly the most terrible he had ever encountered. He had come so close to finally tasting her lips, lips he had been thinking of more frequently as of late. It was undeniable; it had been for some time. He harboured a debilitating affection for her, one that he had long since stopped trying to repress and deny.

How many times had his attempts to kiss her been spoiled? Too many times, was his ultimate opinion. He had been so convinced that it was about to happen. She had responded to him for once, tilting her head up and staring with submission in her eyes.

He watched her shift in her sleep, a small frown creasing her dark brows. She clearly wasn't having a pleasant sleep. He licked his lips, scolding himself. She was vulnerable, he reminded himself. And it would have been unfair to both of them to seize her moment of weakness, to take advantage of her in a moment of need, and steal her first kiss. A growl roiled around in the cavern of his chest. But he'd be damned if he failed to be the man to kiss her first, to claim the privilege of her first kiss. He clenched his fists, trying to subdue to possessiveness in his gut.

Frigga had fallen silent, causing Loki to resurface from his shamefully selfish thoughts. There was a small frown on her face, much like the one being worn by Miss McPherson.

"I must have bored her," she mused thoughtfully.

Loki rolled his eyes. "Of course not, mother. She's just tired. She hasn't been sleeping."

Frigga looked saddened, her eyes brimming. His mother had always been delicate when it came to emotion. She was a remarkably empathetic goddess, almost to a dangerous extent. Sometimes she absorbed another's distress so completely that she'd succumb to depressive episodes.

"Oh, of course, you're right," she sighed, smoothing out her robes. "How selfish of me."

Loki gave his mother a chastising look. "Stop being so self-deprecating," he scolded. "You put everything that breathes to shame," he scowled humourlessly.

Frigga pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at her youngest son. "And what has caused you such a foul temper?" she inquired.

_Everything_. "Nothing," he said curtly, pushing himself off the fireplace. "I'll wake her up."

Frigga's arm immediately shot out, catching his forearm with her small hand. "Nonsense. You'll do no such thing. You said so yourself that she's exhausted. Let her rest," Frigga ordered.

Loki's expression turned dubious. "We should send for Thor to come and retrieve her," he articulated in protest.

"You're so insensitive," his mother chided. "Look at the poor thing. It breaks my heart." Frigga seemed to coo like a dove at the sleeping woman, her hands clasped together, her eyes wide with affection. "No, we shan't disturb her. She'll just have to spend the night with you," Frigga stated with finality.

Loki began to object, but a wave of his mother's hand and a cutting look silenced him.

"I'm sure that you won't mind giving up your bed. You've done so before, or so I've heard," Frigga continued, raising her brows, a mischievous twinkle in her eye that he recognized well.

Loki spluttered indignantly. "I don't think –

"I will not hear any more protests from you," Frigga said curtly, rising elegantly to her feet. "She looks thinner," she sighed. "Poor dear hardly eats or talks."

The tall god's features contorted with concern, as he too stared down at her. "What should I do if she wakes?" he asked quietly.

"I doubt she'll stir until tomorrow at least. I'll have Haward make sure he prepares something for her to eat once she wakes. You see to it that she does," Frigga said seriously, fixing him with an authoritative look. "If she does happen to wake and refuses to go back to sleep, then talk to her," she continued softly. "She needs to talk to someone. She harbours such guilt."

Loki said nothing, shifting uncomfortably as his mother pulled a handkerchief from somewhere on her person and dabbed at her tearing eyes. "It's so upsetting – for someone with a good heart to be so cruelly treated."

Her son sidled towards her, placing his hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly, offering her comfort. She unthinkingly placed her hand on top of his, patting gently. "Oh, go on now. Carry her to the bed. She'll have a sore back if she stays like that," she ordered, her voice suddenly firm.

Loki pursed his lips, considering arguing with her one last time, but thought better of it. It would be uselessly spent energy. Once his mother's mind was set, there was little anyone could do to alter it. So, resigned, he strode across the short distance to Miss McPherson's side. Gently, so as not to jostle her and cause her to stir, he lifted her up into his arms, one behind her back, and the other beneath her knees.

His mother had already turned down the eiderdown of his lavish emerald bed. He lay her down on the soft material, placing her on the left side, pillow tucked beneath her limp head. He brushed a few wayward strands from her face, enjoying the warmth of her skin beneath his cool fingers. He slowly drew away from her, his fingers lingering briefly on her skin, as he became highly cognizant of the silence in the room. Frigga was watching him intently.

He cleared his throat, pulling his hand away. "What?"

"Please, don't let me stop you," Frigga teased, her eyes sparkling with many unspoken implications.

Loki successfully fought a blush. "Don't be absurd, mother," he muttered darkly.

Frigga shook her head, a knowing smile on her face. "Don't speak to me in that tone, young man," she scolded without bite. "I know you hold her in very high regard, Loki. I'm your mother, don't forget. I can read you plain as day. And it pleases me to say that I know she cares deeply for you as well."

Loki scowled. "It's in her nature to care for others; always bloody empathetic."

The queen chided his language. "That's not what I mean. Evelyn's heart can care for many, but only a few can occupy a special place in her heart. She holds you there, you know," she said softly, gently stroking back Miss McPherson's dark locks.

"Please, Mother," he scoffed.

Frigga turned to her son, her soft features suddenly serious. "It saddens me deeply, this fault of yours," she said. Loki frowned, not understanding. "You've been persuaded into believing that you're a terrible and undeserving person, and are convinced that you're incapable of being loved."

Loki clenched his fists as self-loathing permeated through him.

"You need to know that that is not the case. You _are_ loved," Frigga said dotingly, stroking his cheek with her hand before kissing his high cheekbone.

Loki's rigid posture slackened a bit, his defenses crumpling, as his mother affectionately held his face in her warm hands. He had such a weakness for his mother. He had never thought he could care for another as much as he cared for her. His emerald gaze slid slowly to where Miss McPherson lay sleeping in his bed. But now there was another.

He turned back to his mother. "Your love doesn't count," he sighed wearily. "It's a given."

Frigga smiled gently. "I know that. I'm not talking about my love."

Loki frowned. "Then whose? What proof could you possibly have of love beyond family?"

"The proof is sleeping in your bed, Loki," Frigga said sagely, stroking his black hair, the wrinkles around her eyes softening her gaze as she gauged his reaction.

Loki's body stiffened as he directed his gaze back at the criminologist. His mother's words had set his heart to racing. Knowing he was in her platonic affection had been enough, but the possibility of more – of some form of love – it was too surreal, too idealistic to comprehend.

"I must be off," she said after a brief pause of silence, letting her weathered hands fall away from his face. "Your father will have dinner waiting, and you know how he is about punctuality," she said, smiling brightly. She kissed him once more before striding regally to the door, neck tall and straight with royal bearing. She paused at the door, but Loki did not see, for he was still watching Miss McPherson as she nuzzled her frowning face into his pillow.

"Be good to her," she said. "And remember compassion." Those were her parting words as she swept soundlessly from the room.

Loki placed his hands on the bed, bracing himself once the door had clicked shut. He tentatively reached out, tracing the dark bruises of exhaustion beneath her eyes with cool fingertips. He knew it wasn't proper, that it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself as he eased his body onto the bed and lay on his side above the eiderdown, facing her. He gently laid his head down on the pillow beside hers, watching her sleep, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath that she took.

He body twitched and a soft whimper fled her lips – one of her nightmares, he presumed. Hesitating, he slowly extended his hand, tucking her dishevelled hair behind her ear. Her body shuddered and the whimpers quieted. He then took her hand in his, tracing small circles on the inside of her soft, warm palm. After a few seconds a sigh escaped her lips and the frown lines marring her face gradually smoothed out.

Loki stayed beside her for several hours, content to lay beside her, watching her and caressing her palm. He eventually fell into a deep sleep as a week of sleepless nights finally caught up to him. He didn't know it, but that night Evelyn's nightmares were kept at bay, the small comfort of his presence enough to beat back the demons. She slept, dreamless, for the first night in a week.

He held her hand that entire night.

**Well, there you have it. Thanks again for the reviews, they were all lovely to read! And thanks to all the new followers – I hope you're enjoying the story. This was the longest chapter to date – 7080 words. Let me know what you think :) **


	21. Reconciliation and Retaliation

**I'm sorry for the delay! I won't bore you guys with the details of my final exams, but, well, I'm sure you can imagine the frustrating lack of time. The next chapter will be delayed as well – sorry :(**

**I know a lot of you were looking forward to the inevitable kiss last chapter, but I'm borderline paranoid when it comes to timing. I promise that when it happens (which will be **_**very **_**soon) I'll make magic. Thanks for the lovely reviews and words of encouragement. Your perpetual patience will be rewarded by a damn good first kiss :)**

21: Reconciliation and Retaliation

Loki woke up with a start when a violent and possibly hostile object smacked him bluntly in the chest. He spluttered, coughing, and dazedly forced his heavy eyelids open as he was rudely jarred from his remarkably peaceful sleep. He was momentarily disoriented as he stared up at the ceiling above his bed, blinking back the haze that was clouding his mind, cobwebbed with sleep. Groggily he tried to determine what had assaulted him.

Just as he made to sit up he was struck again on the chest, harder than the last. Fully roused from sleep and alert, he jerked upright in bed. He registered that it was an arm, and with gradual realization he remembered that his mother, meddling woman that she was, had forced him to offer Miss McPherson his bed – in which he had, despite the impropriety of it, joined her without her knowledge or consent.

The sound of her strangled whimpers roused him from his thoughts and he turned to the woman who was lying on her backside, her body convulsing with tremors. She had rolled away from him during the night, and was a foot and a half away from the dip in the bed where he had just risen from. Her head turned right, left, then right again, as her soft panting cries grew more desperate.

His eyes widened when her arm flew out to the side, once again making to strike him. He nimbly caught her wrist and applied pressure, holding back her unconscious assault.

"No!" she suddenly shrieked, thrashing against the sheets that clung to her damp body.

Loki's heart thudded anxiously in his chest as he beheld her unsettling distress. He squeezed her wrist tighter in his fist and pushed himself towards her, across the creased bed sheets. Her limbs were flailing dangerously, and twice her free arm nearly clipped him in the jaw. He made a grab for the threatening appendage, holding her arms down at her sides as her body continued to flail and convulse beneath him.

"Miss McPherson," he said, his voice deep with authority. "Wake up."

She was kicking with her legs, adamantly fighting against him in her state of fitful unconsciousness. She made no sign of stirring from the clutches of her nightmare, so he released her wrists and promptly grabbed her shoulders, shaking her with rattling force. His jarring vigour was perhaps undue and unnecessarily merciless, but desperation to rouse her spurred him to throw such cautions to the wind.

The shaking seemed to do the trick and her dark eyes flew open with a gasp, her body slackening below him. She stared up at him with terrified doe-eyes, a light sheen of sweat shining on her pale forehead. He didn't dare release her shoulders, holding onto her as he anchored her back to reality.

"Loki?" she breathed shakily, staring up at him, palpable traces of fear in her eyes.

"You had a nightmare," he said, releasing her shoulders with evident reluctance. "You're safe now. There's nothing to be afraid of."

He drew away from her and sat back against the headboard, an advisable two feet of space between them. It was difficult for him to put distance between them when all his body wanted was to hold her in his arms, but he wouldn't take advantage of her when she was vulnerable, as he had foolishly done the previous day.

From his peripherals he saw her slowly pull herself up against the headboard as well. He removed her spectacles from the nightstand and handed them to her, being careful not to touch her.

"Why am I in your room? I can't remember…"

"You fell asleep yesterday evening. My mother convinced me to let you stay here for the night," he interjected.

She frowned at him. "You needed convincing? I'm sorry to be such a burden," she said shortly.

Loki scowled as he turned to look at her. Perhaps it was due to having just woken from a seemingly terrifying nightmare, or because she was currently carrying a suffocating amount of guilt and stress on her shoulders, whatever the reason, he chose not to comment on her short temper. He had no right to, really, considering how many times she'd been the recipient of his unwarranted temper.

"That's not what I meant," he said sternly, fixing her with a neutral look. Slowly her gaze lost its edge and she bowed her head, ashamed. "All I meant was that considering the hell we've been through because of the last time you stayed the night in my cell, I figured I'd save us the headache and have Thor come to get you."

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"There's no need," was his low reply. His emerald eyes softened as they scrutinized her disheveled appearance. Her eyes were underlined with dark circles, her long, brown hair askew. "What did you dream of?"

She gazed up him, silent for a moment, her eyes chillingly empty. "Alberic."

He nodded slowly, expecting as much. "You're safe from him, Miss McPherson."

Slowly the young woman shook her head. "We're only safe for as long as he chooses us to be," was her emotionless response.

Loki's face contorted into a troubled frown, perturbed by her uncharacteristically glum outlook. "You know that's not true, don't you?" he pressed, turning his upper body towards her.

She stared straight ahead. "Isn't it, though? Look how easily he – he possessed me. He tampered with the perimeter that you created, and now he's set his sights on Earth." She turned her dark eyes towards him, her expression desolate and frightened. "What's stopping him? Who's stopping him?"

Loki clenched his fists. "_I'll _stop him."

The wide-eyed brunette stared deeply into his eyes, their entrancing depths flickering with an unidentifiable emotion. "But you're confined in here," she said quietly, as if it proved her point.

"You forget, Miss McPherson, that you never knew me when I was at the prime of my power," he said darkly, his eyes burning with a hunger for battle. "It will take more than a magically barred door to stop me when my powers are returned in less than three weeks."

She fixed him with a dubious look, one that was almost disapproving. It was just a flash of doubt, of apprehension, but it was enough to irk Loki. For some reason he could not stand the notion of her doubting him.

"You know I will not resume my old ways," he said, more softly now. He tried to convey his honesty through his eyes. "You may not remember, but Alberic and I exchanged words. Do you recall what they were?"

The weary-looking woman shook her head, leaning against the headboard with a wince, as if she were in pain – which she undoubtedly was, considering her foot was still far from being in top form. "How did you convince him to let us free?" she asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You didn't promise him anything you'd regret, did you?"

Loki shook his head. "I only promised him that the next time we met he could try to defeat me as an equal. I appealed to his sense of glory. He and I used to be quite similar. I knew exactly which stings to pull. Rest assured, the next time he intends to cause harm I will be restored my magic and my strength," he said.

She only nodded, closing her eyes and quietly leaning back against the head board. Loki couldn't help but watch her for a moment, admiring the way the summer sun's glow bathed her in its light, emphasizing the natural burgundy tones in her dark hair. The warmth of the yellow rays seemed to evaporate the sickly hue from her drawn cheeks, restoring a healthy colouring to her face.

Slowly her eyes opened and he swiftly averted his gaze, abashed, not wanting to be caught staring. "We should continue our sessions," she suggested. "Would you fetch me my crutches?"

Loki gaped at her, disbelieving. "You're jesting," he intoned disbelievingly.

Miss McPherson turned her dark eyes on him, calculating. "Why would I jest about our sessions? It's my _job_. We have less than three weeks to go," she insisted, turning her body with effort in order to swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

Indignant, Loki agilely eased off the eiderdown and swept around the four poster bed, planting himself in front of her. "I don't think my sessions take precedence at the moment," he asserted, chiding her.

She glared up at him, struggling to hoist herself onto her foot. But Loki was having none of it. He was little inclined to indulge her act of defiance. Just when she managed to balance on her good foot, he pushed firmly on her shoulder sending her toppling back onto his bed. "Hey!" she exclaimed. His gaze glittered with amusement as she huffed crossly at him.

He looked down his aristocratic nose at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "I don't think I'm the one who needs therapy at the moment," he breathed, his tone lilting teasingly.

Miss McPherson, in a proper state now, was fuming. "Don't mock me. I may be messed up because of what Alberic did, I may bear broken bones and bruises, but I'm still capable of performing my job," she cried fiercely, her eyes brimming with tears.

Loki's smug expression immediately faded when he took in the telltale glassy quality of her eyes. He hadn't meant to taunt her and he internally berated his foolishness. Of course she wasn't in any humour to indulge his playful teasing. At the back of his mind he heard the echo of his mother's voice: "_... remember compassion._"

"I don't deserve to be belittled or – or condescended, just because people might think I'm fragile and damaged," she snapped, wiping furiously at the unwanted tears. "Especially not by you."

Loki clenched his hands into fists. "I was not belittling you. I know that you aren't weak, and nor are you damaged. Distressed and laden with guilt, perhaps. But not damaged," he insisted. On instinct, his hand extended as if of its own mind, gently holding her chin and brushing her cheek with the cold, calloused pad of his thumb.

She stared into his eyes and he could read her torment as easily as if it were his own. He was perfectly familiar with the grief she was experiencing, having experienced it himself countless times in the past few months. Her shoulders heaved with effort as she took a deep, shaky breath. His hand reluctantly fell away.

"I don't know how to cope with what I'm feeling," she said, voice quivering. "I don't know how to forgive myself."

Loki licked his lips and carefully sat beside her, this time close enough for his thigh to just barely brush her own. He remained silent for a moment, carefully considering her words. "I cannot stress it enough," he began, watching her stare at her hands, clasped in her lap, "as I said yesterday, that you are not at fault. You are a victim. There was no possible way for you to contest Alberic's influence."

She didn't look away from her lap, clasping her hands ever tighter together until her knuckles burned white. "I'm afraid he's still inside my head." This time she met his gaze, her brown eyes disconcertingly void of warmth, instead radiating cold fear. "He talks to me, in my nightmares. Sometimes – sometimes I think he hasn't really left me."

Loki's brow furrowed into a concerned frown. "What does he say?" he asked, his tone deepening with displeasure.

She shrugged, lowering her gaze. "He reminds me of them – of the fathers, sons, and nephews – all dead. Because of me. He won't let me forget the blood on my hands. Sometimes I can still see it – the horrifically vivid crimson staining my arms and hands." She released a breath of anguish; digging her fists into her eye sockets with such force that Loki winced. "I can't bear to see it anymore."

When she pressed her fists harder into her eyes, he snapped. "Stop that," he chided, and forcefully pried her fists away from her face.

Her body slackened, drooping forward with a terrible weight. "I want it to stop. How do I make it stop?" she pleaded, looking up at him with beseeching, chocolate-brown eyes.

Loki felt his heart thud loudly in his chest. If possible his body went colder than it ever had before. He didn't know what to say or what to do. Advice was her expertise, not his. The tables had suddenly turned on him, their dynamic as companions shifting entirely – the roles reversed – and he wasn't sure he knew what to do. She was depending on him, he realized, with equal parts fear and delight. He was terrified to disappoint her. But he wouldn't let her down.

"I can't forget what I've done, and it's eating me alive," she whispered, her voice strained with torment.

Loki took her hand in his, holding the warm appendage tightly between his fingers. "You cannot let this consume you. This isn't you," he said sternly. "You're stronger than this. Don't let him win. Don't let him be the cause of your undoing."

Her head bobbed gently as she absorbed his words. They weren't so much advice, but a plea.

"I need you to stay strong," he continued, squeezing her hand tighter as his own voice creaked with emotion. "I won't lose you to Alberic," he vowed, his voice a low rumble of protectiveness mingling with resolve.

She turned to look at him, her lips slightly parted. "I'm scared, Loki. I don't know what to do."

Loki reflexively reached out to grasp her face in his hands, physically holding her gaze to his. He gently brushed her cheekbones with his thumbs. "I won't let him hurt you again. I swear to you."

Her dark-lashes nearly brushed her cheekbones as her eyelids fluttered wearily closed. He felt her body lean towards him, sagging under the abysmal guilt and fear that clung to her like a hostile shadow. His chest swelled with a desire to protect her.

He released her face, and wrapped a strong, sure arm around her back as she collapsed into his side, curling against him, one warm hand absently clutching his shirt as she pressed her damp cheek into his shoulder.

"I won't let him hurt you," Loki repeated determinedly, holding fast to her, his grip tightening around her frame. She said nothing, but her shallow breathing gradually evened out and her grip on his shirt tightened infinitesimally more. He held her for what may as well have been hours, but was mere minutes. Loki's sensitive ears detected the sound of lumbering footsteps beyond his door. He recognized it was his brother's less than subtle gait. He was, undoubtedly, come to fetch Miss McPherson.

Gently, he released her. She made a small sound of protest that caused Loki's heart to constrict with a ridiculous amount of satisfaction, before he rose in time to greet his brother.

"Thor," he said rigidly as the burly, blonde giant entered the room.

"Brother," he nodded in return, his translucent blue eyes drifting to where Miss McPherson sat upon his bed. "How was your rest, Miss McPherson?" he inquired with a warm smile, retrieving her crutches from where they leaned against an armchair.

The brunette offered gentle, sheepish smile. "The best I've had in a week, to be honest," she said quietly, her eyes briefly meeting Loki's. A strange sensation passed through him then. "Loki kept the demons away," she said softly, her smile suddenly fading as a look of awareness seemed to dawn across her features.

Loki watched her expression change and wondered what was going on behind those roiling brown eyes. She swallowed thickly, before gesturing for her crutches. Thor handed them to her, and Loki forced himself, with no small amount of difficulty, to remain at a distance from her as she struggled to her feet. When she teetered precariously, his brother was swift to straighten her out.

She turned, her eyes searching him out. When they settled on him, they looked shamefully apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm still a bit out of sorts. Our session—

Loki waved his hand dismissively, cutting off her words. His eyes conveyed his sincerity. "Tomorrow."

She held his gaze a moment longer before nodding stiffly and severing their connection. She permitted Thor to escort her from the room. His older brother met his gaze briefly, fixing him with an inquiring gaze. Loki, for all his perceptive adeptness, could not decipher the underlying question in the man's uncommonly stony gaze, but whatever it so happened to be, Loki knew that before long he'd be posed the question. Thor had never been one to have tact when it came to his musings.

As he watched Thor aid the limping girl through the doorway, he managed to catch one last look at his companion. Her head turned at the last moment, peering curiously over her shoulder. Her eyes fixed on him with an expression that unsettled him. There was clarity in those dark brown eyes – a clarity so sharp that he could scarcely conceive what was going on in her mind. The door promptly shut, severing their contact with palpable force.

OOOOO

Loki anxiously awaited Miss McPherson's arrival the following day. He wanted to know about the guilt and the fears that were pervading her mind. He was determined to help her overcome the grief that was now haunting her. After she had left the previous morning, he had been restless for the remainder of the day, reminiscing on her perturbingly empty, hollow eyes. He would not rest until those brown eyes were restored to their former state of expressing her all-encompassing warm personality.

It was past lunchtime when he heard a set of unfamiliar footsteps approaching his cell. It was not his mother, nor was it Thor or Miss McPherson. He felt his body turn rigid as he rose defensively from his seat at his desk, carefully tucking away the tome he had been reading into the nearest drawer.

The door cautiously swung open. Loki could not prevent the cold jolt of shock the seized him when his adopted father entered his room. It was the first time in five and a half months that he had come to visit him in his cell. Loki wasn't sure whether he was more enraged or slighted to be graced by his unwilling presence now. He did not attempt to mask the grimace of disdain on his face as his sharp green eyes bored unforgivingly into the shorter, wizened man.

Odin closed the door softly behind him, his posture tall and regal as he entered further into the room. His single eye never strayed from his son's. "You were not expecting me."

"No," Loki ground out, his emotions suddenly conflicting as he abruptly recalled the handful of favours his father had bestowed upon he and Miss McPherson in the past few months, in particular how he had stood up against Judge Voglrsson to attest to, on both his and Miss McPherson's behalves, their honourable characters.

"I was expecting Miss McPherson. We have a session this afternoon. I admit your presence is wholly unexpected and, if I'm to be blunt, not entirely welcomed," Loki ground out, flexing his jaw.

His father nodded, his glacial blue eye taking a moment to study the Spartan cell, lingering on the excessively opulent bed. A flicker of wry amusement crossed his features. "No doubt the special touch of your mother's influence," he mused softly.

Loki snorted ungraciously. "Once her mind is set…"

"She cannot be deterred," Odin finished with a nod, his gaze levelling with his son's.

The taller god clasped his cool, slender hands behind his back. He regarded his estranged father for several brief moments before gesturing to the arm chair normally occupied by Miss McPherson.

Odin nodded, grunting in thanks, as he lowered himself into the plush seat. After a slight hesitation, Loki took the seat opposite, extending his legs and crossing his ankles. He watched Odin shift somewhat with discomfort. Loki smirked satisfactorily. This was his territory; let the old codger feel disdvantaged.

"Miss McPherson sought me out yesterday afternoon," Odin began, folding his hands neatly in his lap as he fixed Loki with a perturbingly sharp eye. "She seems to think that you and I are ready to properly embark on the route of reconciliation."

Loki scoffed, glaring at the white-haired man. He looked impossibly weary. The two or three times that he had briefly encountered his adopted father in the past year had not been sufficient in conveying the obvious strain that the Allfather was under, Loki realized, as he studied his father. The Frost Giant siege, Alberic's presence and the prison fiasco had clearly grated on his unflappable nature. There was unconcealed exhaustion written into in every intricate crease lining his aged, weathered face. For a brief moment, he felt an uncomfortable pang of sympathy for the man – a subtle, nostalgic ache for a great man now succumbing to the terrible weight of his reign. The sentiment was fleeting; gone in the next instant he took breath.

"She asked that I come to see you today to replace her usual session with you," Odin continued.

Loki bristled somewhat. His intuitive mind rapidly analyzed those words and he found himself offended by his speculations that she might be avoiding him for some reason or other. He mentally berated his foolishness. Tomorrow their sessions would resume, surely he could handle another day without seeing her. The dull ache in his chest suggested otherwise, but he quickly pushed it aside, disregarding the throb of disappointment.

"What do you want me to say to you?" Loki asked, suddenly weary.

Odin narrowed his eye. "I think you set the record straight all those weeks ago when I spoke with you during the trial. You were," he paused, "painfully clear." He continued in a lighter tone. "Once I managed to overcome my own indignation and pride over your slights, I was able to appreciate your blunt honesty."

Loki scowled, remembering the cruel words he had directed at the man sitting before him. Miss McPherson had chastised him for being overly harsh, but in that moment he had felt such anger towards his father. He held him, in part, responsible for his fall from grace. If his companion would have been present now, she wouldn't have described his words as honest, so much as tactless.

"I remember," was all Loki said, his tone cutting.

Odin nodded slowly. "I have long thought over your words," he said with a frown. "I am regretful to say that you were not entirely wrong."

Loki swallowed with some manner of difficulty as an unexpected wave of guilt pervaded him. "I wasn't entirely correct either," he said, his tone uncommonly soft, as he discarded the sharp edge to his words.

He met his father's eye and saw a flicker of hope. It made his gut wrench uneasily as he realized just how far they had fallen apart over the years. As a young child he had extolled his father, he had admired him for the great and powerful man that he was. But as he grew, it became more and more obvious that his father was paying more attention to honing Thor for leadership than he was to being a father to his youngest son, the forgotten son. If not for his mother's constant doting, he would have felt entirely neglected.

"I know that my apology is long overdue, and I am under no illusions that an apology of any degree of eloquence will atone for the way I have neglected and failed you as a father, but I wish to say it all the same." Odin's crystal blue eye shone with unshed tears, a rare moment of vulnerability that thoroughly jarred Loki. "I am so incredibly sorry, my son. I have always loved you, despite having failed to convey it. I lament that there is such distance between us now, such resentment."

Loki said nothing, his emerald gaze diverting to the expanse of wall beyond Odin's shoulder. He licked his lips, rubbing his jaw with a cold hand. "I hated you," he said darkly. "I despised your very name, your face, your presence, when I learned that you had taken me from Jotunheim as an infant."

He directed his now fiercely burning emerald gaze back at his father. "I want to resent you still today. I want to continue to hate you and your deceptions," he paused, "but in the past few months I have come to realize that nothing is ever as simple as black and white."

Odin's lips stretched into a thin line. "I have done wrong by you. I only wish you would not hate me for it."

Loki shook his head vehemently, rising abruptly to his feet. "That's just the point of it," he exclaimed breathlessly. "I _don't _hate you anymore. I _can't_. I can't delude myself into blaming you for my actions last year. What I did was unforgiveable. My anger was spurred by your negligence and my resentment for the lie I had been living, but that still does not condone what I did to Midgard," he said tersely. "No one is responsible for my actions but me. I have come to accept this – with some help," he finished, thinking briefly of Miss McPherson.

Odin rose as well, slowly, with enviable poise. "I am responsible for failing to guide you. I failed you."

Loki ran his tongue along his teeth. "I cannot keep blaming you. Miss McPherson is right. It consumes me, this resentment. I need to let go." He met his father's gaze. "We both need to accept our past failings and move past them. Those who hold onto the past will only be met by perpetual and unnecessary despair."

The Allfather took a cautious step forward. Loki's spine straightened defensively, unprepared for a display of affection from his father. He was willing to test the waters of reconciliation, but he wasn't about to go on a father-son fishing trip. When Odin silently extended a solid hand towards him, Loki felt minute relief. They would take this journey of reconciliation together, slowly and gradually. With a curt nod, Loki grasped his father's hand firmly in his own.

"A new beginning," Odin murmured quietly.

Loki said nothing, releasing his father's hand. Odin did not move for a moment, levelling his blue eye with his son. "Your companion is quite the woman, Loki. She has all the makings of a remarkable individual."

He only nodded, distracted as his thoughts drifted to his companion. "She's struggling to deal with the possession. She's still haunted by Alberic, by the blood on her hands."

Odin looked grave. "I have noticed. Your mother is very distressed by it."

Loki could only imagine that she would be. Frigga had been verging on tears two days ago when Miss McPherson had fallen asleep in his cell, lamenting over her ashen skin, her sickly pallor and obvious loss of appetite. "It worries me," he admitted. He didn't want to appear vulnerable in front of his father, but it was evident that Odin also cared greatly for the girl.

"I only wish I knew what could be done to help her. Not even the presence of her Midgardian companions eases her fears," Odin said.

A thought, a rather ingenious one in Loki's opinion, suddenly came to mind. He recalled her mentioning it to him. With any luck, if it could be arranged, it might prove to be the key to helping her overcome the grief and self-loathing. "There might be something," he mused. He fixed his father with a hesitant look. "Would you be willing to do me a favour?"

Odin's lips upturned at the corners into a sardonically amused half smile. It was the first time Loki had seen the man direct a genuine smile at him in years. His whole face changed and he felt like a child again. It unsettled him. Normally he would never degrade himself by asking another for a favour, but considering his plight of confinement and consequently his inability to have influence over the outside world, he would have to steel himself against his retaliating pride. It was for Miss McPherson's sake, in any case. Which made it somewhat more tolerable, he thought. Only marginally.

"It pleases me to know that there are some things you still need me for. I would be happy to be of use," Odin said.

Loki grimaced, but swallowed the sensation of a wounded pride. "I was hoping that you could arrange a rather exceptional meeting."

OOOOO

The next several days passed and Evelyn went each day to visit Loki for their sessions. She was thoroughly impressed with his dramatic progress. The day after she had sent Odin to visit Loki, they had engaged in some discussion over how, despite the gradual nature of beginning the process of reconciliation, he could not deny the lightness that permeated him.

Evelyn was extremely proud; her well-hidden professional ego was bursting with satisfaction. Their sessions had gone well. Loki's temper had never flared and he had shown incredible patience and compassion when sporatic waves of emotion would strike her. They never spoke of Alberic – Evelyn refused to, even when Loki offered to listen. She tried her utmost to circumvent all conversation concerning her role as unwilling murderer, the defilement of possession and Alberic's cruelties against her. Loki wasn't pleased by her avoidance. But avoidance was her defense mechanism, protecting her from having to deal with the reality of what had happened to her. Everything was better when left unsaid.

She stumbled up the stairs in her crutches – she had narrowly escaped Natasha and Clint who had insisted on helping her up the foreboding spiral staircase for the past couple days. They wouldn't be pleased to know that she had evaded their assistance, but Evelyn was tired of being so dependent on them. The swell of pleasure that filled her chest upon reaching the top of the stairs without a human crutch made the exhaustion in her trembling legs entirely worth it.

She quickly greeted Haward who exchanged a good-humoured word of chastisement for having climbed the stairs on her own. Eager to share her small victory with Loki, she hobbled into his room. He was flipping through a book and didn't bother looking up. Undeterred, she staggered over to her usual seat and plopped down without and regard for gracefulness, leaning her crutches just beside her.

He was still immersed in his book, but she knew that he was entirely aware of her arrival. A small frown downturned her lips as she remembered waking up in his bed just five days ago. She had slept a pleasantly dreamless sleep for the most part, which was a welcome relief. But then Alberic's obsidian, depthless eyes had abruptly filled her head, taunting her and vowing to destroy her beloved Earth. His blunt nails had run down the length of her arms, drawing vivid red blood, and then the faces of the Asgardian guards, the victims of her possession, had swelled beyond his bloodthirsty, sadistic face, cursing her and bemoaning their unjust deaths.

It had been a particularly disturbing variation of her nightmare, but thankfully short-lived. She had awoken to find Loki's body suspended above her own, shaking her to consciousness. His dark green eyes had been narrow with trepidation, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly with underlying desperation. The warmth and relief that had flooded her upon seeing him and _feeling _him so close to her had instantly expended all her anxieties, all the lingering traces of the horrors of her night terror.

Lost in thought, she began to detect a particularly stern gaze burning into her face. She met Loki's intent gaze with a small smile.

"You look positively spent," he observed.

Evelyn just shrugged, her brows knitting.

"Trouble sleeping?" he inquired.

The young woman rubbed her lips together, not liking that he was breaking their silent agreement to not broach issues concerning the prison debacle.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "A little. Last time I slept a whole night through was," she paused, averting her gaze to the barren mantle of the fireplace, "well, the night I stayed in your cell," she finished lamely.

Loki nodded gently, his eyes refusing to stray from her. "Are you having nightmares again?"

Evelyn scowled at him. He had asked her the same question a few days back. She had lied, of course. "No."

It was Loki's turn to scowl. "Don't lie to me, Miss McPherson. Your lack of adeptness for it is embarrassing."

Evelyn resisted the childish urge to roll her eyes. "These sessions aren't meant to be about me."

"Well I think we can suffer the loss of one session to talk about you instead. I've been remarkably well-behaved this past week; I even surprised myself. I think one less session is manageable, don't you?" he asked, his tone a low purr as he leaned his elbows against his desk, fixing her with a challenging gaze.

Evelyn's mood, which had previously been uplifted, quickly deflated. "I'm not here to talk about myself," she insisted.

"Tell me if you're still having nightmares," he reiterated, ignoring her statement entirely.

A brief pause, and then she lowered her gaze, relenting. "They never stopped," she said softly, rubbing her eyes wearily. She was vaguely aware of the sound of him pushing back his chair, the soft tap of his light steps carrying him across the small room towards her.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked, his tone strained.

Evelyn jumped, lifting her head. He was standing in front of his armchair, arms crossed, staring down at her. She squirmed uncomfortably. "It wasn't important," she replied defensively, trying and failing to regulate her suddenly erratic heartbeat as he loomed above her.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say," he ground out, his tone clearly displeased. "If you think that your despair isn't important to me than you are sadly mistaken"

His voice conveyed genuine hurt, which jarred Evelyn. She knew that their strange friendship had developed out of mutual sentiments of care for each other, but at the moment she was in no mood to entertain his curiosities about her own problems. She glared up at him, refusing to lessen the force of her anger.

"I said that I didn't want to talk about this. Why can't you leave well enough alone?" she snapped.

Loki's eyes seemed to widen in surprise before narrowing into a heated glare that put hers to shame. "I know that what happened has been traumatic for you. You need to talk about it. You can't just internalize your guilt," he said sternly.

Evelyn clenched her fists. "Just drop it."

"No," he intoned deeply.

A wave of rage rushed through her. She refused to let him order her around. He had no right. She would not let him twist their meeting into a therapy session for her problems. They were _her_ problems, and she didn't have to share them if she didn't damn well want to.

"Fine," she snapped acerbically. "Have it your way."

Tearing her eyes from his, she grabbed her crutches and fumbled to her feet. Loki seemed taken aback by her clear intent to depart as he reached out to steady her swaying form. Her lips pursed with barely concealed indignation and she roughly pushed his hand away. "Don't touch me," she snarled. If she hadn't been so consumed by her own frustrations with how their meeting was turning out, she might have noticed the dangerous look in Loki's suddenly frosty green eyes. As it were, she was distracted by her own anger as she hobbled towards the cell door.

Her fingertips barely had a chance to brush the cool surface of the decorative brass knob, when his hand shot out and grabbed her by the shoulder, roughly halting her escape and spinning her to face him. The movement was so rapid that her crutches twisted out from beneath her arms, falling with dull thuds to the ground. She only managed to maintain her balance by clinging onto each of his black shirt sleeves with her hands. Her eyes were wide with shock as he intense green eyes burned into her skull.

"I only want to help you," he asserted, clearly frustrated by her lack cooperation. His large hands were firmly gripping her shoulders, squeezing them with painfully strong fingers.

She winced. "I don't need your help." She tried to ignore the traitorous tears that were suddenly obscuring her vision.

His fingers tightened around her shoulders. "Why won't you let me help you?" he demanded, his voice lowering.

"Because my problems are none of your damn concern!" she shouted, her frustrations finally manifesting themselves vocally as her fingers instinctively tightened around his shirt sleeves.

"Like hell it isn't my concern," he countered angrily. "The only reason you got dragged into this damn conflict is because of your involvement with me. I am entirely responsible for what happened to you. I won't let this man consume you!" he avowed, his voice rising with fury.

"It's too bloody late for that!" she cried, furiously wiping away her tears. "He's in my head! It's constant. I can't have a private thought without hearing him goad me and torment me and I can't make it stop!"

"He's not in your head," Loki growled, his eyes aflame with anger.

"He is! You don't know what it's like. Every time I think I can start to forgive myself I hear his words from that day in the cell echoing in my head. He'll never let me forgive myself, and I'd rather die than go through the rest of my life carrying this all-consuming guilt of having their blood on my hands!" she cried, her face flushed with tears of defeat.

Loki's body went rigid. "Enough! Listen to yourself!"

She glared at him through her tears. "Don't tell me what to do. Don't pretend to know what I'm going through," she cried miserably.

Loki's nostrils flared. In a fit of blind rage he shook her violently by the shoulders. Evelyn gaped mutely at the brutal force behind his actions. His fingers burned into her skin. His icy ire seemed to permeate her flesh, chilling the very blood in her veins. Her head snapped violently back and forth, and an agonized gasp fled from her lips. Her eyes were wide and she made no attempt at concealing her shock and fear.

The steel edge that had filled his cold emerald eyes seemed to recede upon the realization of his actions. A look of self-loathing and disgust contorted his previously enraged expression. He abruptly released her shoulders, and she staggered back into the wall, unable to remove the look of disbelief and agony on her face. She hardly recognized him. She had never witness him so utterly… undone with anger.

The imposing demigod ran a shaking hand through his hair, his breaths coming out in ragged pants. He turned his back on her, his shoulder rigid, mumbling incoherent curses under his breath. When he faced her again his expression was a careful mask of disdainful unaffectedness. He would not meet her eyes as he gracefully, albeit rigidly, bent at the waist to retrieve her crutches, thrusting them under her nose.

"You should go," he said gruffly, his voice lower than she had ever known it to be.

She stared at the towering man before her for only a moment longer before taking up her crutches and leaving the room without a backward glance. By the time she reached the bottom of the tall stairwell several minutes later, her heart was beating at an erratic pace, her limbs shook beneath her weight, and her body was coated in a cold sheen of sweat. She would be a liar if she insisted that it was due to the physical exertion.

**Again, sorry for the delay. I hope it was worth it. Don't freak out about the ending. There is always method to my madness. All shall be justified in the next chapter. Never fear. Drop a review (you know I love those). Cheers!**


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